Playing Pretend
by gr8rockstarrox
Summary: He needs someone to show him the ropes of being grown up and mature. She's just bored. Also, she needs help with Sixth Year Transfiguration. Put them together and what do you get? A fake-dating couple that takes Hogwarts by storm. [Eventual James/OC; starts Sixth Year; AUish; Romance/Friendship/Humour]
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** He needs someone to show him the ropes of being grown up and mature. She's just bored. Also, she needs help with Sixth Year Transfiguration. Put them together and what do you get? A fake-dating couple that takes Hogwarts by storm.

[Eventual James/OC; starts Sixth Year; AUish; Romance/Friendship/Humour]

 **Ratings:** T, for now.

 **Disclaimer:** JKR owns HP  & co. This disclaimer is applicable to all future chapters.

* * *

 **Foreword:**

This story starts with a note. Consider this some form of foreword. (Or should I call it a warning?) We all know that Jily is super popular, so why am I bothering to write a James/OC story?

As much as canon is perfect with James, Lily and their legendary love story, I personally think the Marauders' Era can be explored a lot more with an OC. Lily is too... Involved with other things, hmm?

Also, I'm tired of stories where the OC has special powers, is brilliant at academics or is a star Quidditch player. Let's have an ordinary OC whose only job is to take on whatever happens and deal with them realistically.

Usually the OC knows everything about the Marauders, is sometimes even a part of the group, aiding and abetting them. But that's not how JKR portrayed the Marauders in her stories. They were pretty exclusive and were also secretive about it. So this OC will literally be clueless about Remus' furry problem and so on.

The few James/OC stories that are there on this site – well, they all predominantly feature a bitchy Lily. Why can't we have a canon!Lily who just doesn't end up with James? She'll have her occasional moments of bitchiness, but then, so do we all. So we'll have a... Nice!Lily.

And finally, though this story is written in first person, it's NOT an SI/OC fic. I just think first person will be a fun perspective to narrate through. It gives a chance to bring in pithy remarks and witty comments.

Hopefully, there won't be any other long notes in this story. Thanks for reading.

xx

* * *

 **PLAYING PRETEND**

 _CHAPTER 1_

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* * *

I'm in the library, trying to get myself to start the Transfiguration essay, when James Potter throws himself into the chair across me.

"You all right, there?" I ask him, as he puts his head on the table and groans noisily. I can already guess what has happened. _Again._ It's one of those things in life which just doesn't change, ever.

"Lily said no again," he wails. Had this not been a daily occurrence, I might have felt sorry for the black haired boy sitting in front of me. Right now, though, I feel sorry for Lily, for having to put up with this immature boy.

"Have you ever thought of what you're doing wrong? I mean, surely it _is_ insanity if you keep trying the same action and expect different results each time?" I ask him, wishing I had started my essay earlier. With James here, it'll now be impossible to get my work done.

"What do you mean?" he asks, raising his head from the table. His eyes are wide, like the thought has never struck him before. I hold back a sigh.

"You keep badgering Lily, asking her out all the time. You never give her a break. Have you thought of just spending time with her as a friend, trying to get to know her? Without annoying her?"

"I know plenty about her," he protests. "I know her favourite food, her favourite colour, her birthday - "

I cut him off, saying, "Yeah, by stalking her. By creeping her out. You could have tried to find out all that about her normally."

"Huh, normally, huh?" he whispers, once again lost in thought.

I crack open my Transfiguration textbook, and try to see if I can paraphrase portions of it for my yet-to-started essay. McGonagall might be a nice person, but she is a very strict teacher, who expects her NEWT students to be of a certain calibre. I'd scraped in with an 'E' on my OWLs. Transfiguration is not my forte, and the Sixth Year syllabus feels crazy.

I get so immersed in writing my newly thought out essay that it's when my quill snaps, thereby startling James, that I realise he is still there. He looks at me like a puppy who has been kicked.

I sigh and put my quill aside, taking out scrap parchment to wipe the ink off my fingers. It won't do to give McG smudged pieces of writing.

"You know what? I think you should see other girls, spread your wings a little. They can give you advice, show you what you're doing wrong. And may be if Lily sees what she's missing, she might be more inclined to say yes to you."

As I tell him all that, I pour sand onto my parchment, trying to dry the ink quickly. When you can't go for content, you go for presentation.

"Sarah! You're an absolute genius!" he cries, as I look at him with suspicion. I collect the sand back into its box and roll up my now-started essay, trying not to wince at that look in his eye.

That gleaming look he has is the same as the one he sports when he sits with his three best friends, plotting something or the other. I'm pretty sure those four are behind most of the 'accidents' which occur in Hogwarts, especially those which happen to the Slytherins.

"James?" I ask, with trepidation. That look does not bode well.

"I can fake-date you! You can tell me all that I'm doing wrong, just like you did right now, and I can learn how to be a proper boyfriend. I can stay away from Lily for a few months, learn how to be a better, _normal_ person and you can guide me through all that! And you're the only girl from our year that Lily is close to, so you can tell me how to be better _for_ her!"

I look at him like he's bonkers, because he definitely is. With a hare-brained scheme like that, I'm surprised Prefect Evans hasn't hexed his balls off already.

"You're barmy, if you think that'll even work! And - "

Madam Pince makes her presence known by screeching at the two of us to maintain silence. I honestly do not see what her problem is, seeing as the library is nearly empty.

When I stand after dumping my books into my bag unceremoniously, taking care to not crumple my essay, I'm surprised to find James standing next to me, pulling out my chair. He takes my bag from my hands and effortlessly slings it across his shoulders.

That's when I notice that he doesn't have a bag of his own.

"Where's your books bag?" I ask him, keeping my voice low, just in case Pince is lurking around.

He shrugs and answers, "I'm so smart, I don't need books."

He smiles after that, and there's a dimple on his left cheek when he does that. I roll my eyes at him, used to his weird sense of humour. Because that's what this is. To the untrained ear, this might sound like arrogance, but after five years of being a housemate and a classmate, I know it isn't.

The minute we're out of the library, he asks, "So? What do you think of my plan? Want to be my fake-girlfriend who is actually my coach?"

I pause to furrow my eyebrows and give him a sardonic look, which is lost on him. So I continue walking, with him placing his left hand on the small of my back, guiding me. It feels nice to have someone do that.

"I think your plan is stupid," I tell him honestly.

"That doesn't matter. Do you want to be my tutor-slash-fake-girlfriend?"

I almost groan. I haven't been in a relationship before, and I certainly don't want my first one to be a sham.

"What do I get out of this?" I ask him, narrowing my eyes.

"Think of it as service to humankind," he pleads, looking adorably at me with his eyes wide and doe-like. I try not to smile, in vain.

"Ha! You're smiling!" he crows delightedly, like a small kid. "Does that mean you'll do it?"

We're near the entrance to the Great Hall now, so I stop walking to look at him, to truly take him in. He too stops, and steps closer, a bit too close, in fact. He moves his hand to move his glasses upward, to stop them from slipping off.

I take in everything, his mussed up hair, his displaced tie, his shirt which is open at the neck, his height - everything. He could have any girl in Hogwarts, though everyone by now knew to stay away from him, due to his relentless and well-publicised pursuit of Lily.

It's the look of hope in his eyes and the absolute sincerity his face radiates that makes the decision for me.

"I'll do it," I say, feeling like a creature from a different universe. I don't know what I've agreed to, but it'll be fun, right?

I'll be able to learn a lot about the psyche of boys, and may be even help Lily and James to get together. That would be an epic love story, if there ever was one. And maybe, just maybe, I could get James to look through my Transfiguration work, and give me pointers?

"Thank you so much, Sarah! I always knew I could count on you!" he gushes, hugging me tightly. The action takes me by surprise and knocks the wind out of me.

"Merlin, I didn't know you were a hugger," I mutter, which only makes him laugh. He still hasn't let go of me, though.

"James, you can stop hugging me now," I tell him. He smells like cinnamon and musk. It's such an odd combination, but works together perfectly.

"Right," he says, as he draws away. Am I crazy for missing that body heat, even if it's just for a second?

"Right, so what do we do now?" he asks, bringing me out of my thoughts of hugs and such. I really do miss my mum's hugs.

"Well, usually the guy first asks the girl out, so maybe you could ask me later tonight? Not that I'm against girls asking the guy out first – it's just that here, in Hogwarts, the guy asks the girl out."

James looks like he's making notes mentally, so I grin and try to make him not take this so seriously. There's no point in doing anything in life if you can't see the fun in it.

"Hey, don't look so serious. I'm not giving you instructions to brew _Felix Felicis_."

He bloody smirks at me, no longer looking sombre, and says, "I'm not Sirius, I'm James."

I come so close to banging my head on the nearby wall. James and Sirius used to make these jokes all the time in First Year, back when all of us had just started calling each other by our first names. I thought they'd have grown out of it by now, but clearly, they haven't. Or at least, James hasn't.

So I roll my eyes and shake my head and am about to make some pithy remark, when I realise this: Aren't his best friends supposed to know if he likes a girl?

"Talking about Sirius, are you going to tell your mates about this thing? Like the truth?" I ask him, bluntly. There's no point in using subtlety with Gryffindors, it's often lost upon us.

"Oh, fuck, I know Remus won't approve. Sirius, I don't know, he'll think it's a laugh... Peter might let the secret out, though."

I quirk an eyebrow at him, and he shakes his head and wrings his hands.

"We'll keep this a secret?" he asks finally.

"Fine," I say, because I had expected him to let at least Sirius in on this. Everyone knows that those two are like conjoined twins on most days.

"That means you can't tell Alice, either. Or Marlene," he warns, his voice dropping.

Is he _actually_ trying to intimidate me? The prat!

"Alice isn't really in a state to listen to all this, she's besotted with Frank," I tell him. I'd lost my best friend to Longbottom, a Seventh Year, over the summer. Merlin knows for how long she's been fancying him.

"Yeah, I heard about that. Apparently they both have liked each other for three years now?" he asks.

I nod my head, with an amused smile. "They're crazy about each other."

"So I'll ask you in the common room tonight?"

"Yeah, but before that, remember to mention to your friends that you're thinking of asking someone else out. And remember to smile at me during dinner, that should set the scene perfectly, so that no one will suspect anything."

"Fine. So I'll ask you to Hogsmeade, in front of Lily."

"No. Don't do it in front of Lily on purpose. It'll come across as you being desperate. Just call me a little to the corner when we girls are talking and ask me quietly. Marlene's ears are sharp, so she'll be able to pick on it easily enough."

We resume walking, James still carrying my bag, when he says, "Did I tell you thanks?"

He kisses me on the cheek, and I smile at him. I can feel my face flushing, but I hope he doesn't notice it. Is it normal to blush if an attractive guy pecks you?

We enter the Great Hall, and I don't get a chance to respond. He escorts me to the empty seat next to Alice, just like a gentleman, placing my bag next to me, before sauntering off to sit next to his mates.

Alice hasn't noticed anything, seeing as she's staring lovingly into Longbottom's eyes. _Give me a break_. But Marlene has, and she waggles her eyebrows at me.

I pretend not to notice her.

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* * *

James Potter is apparently an over-achiever. As soon as dinner is over, he's on my side, picking up my bag and courteously refusing my attempts to get it back.

It's so out of the ordinary that even Alice notices this. I just know that there's going to be an impromptu gossip session tonight between the two of us – no, make that three. Marlene looks super interested, being the gossip-monger that she is. Lily looks on disapprovingly.

James and I walk a little in front of them, but we say absolutely nothing to each other. At the portrait hole, he hands me my bag, and I mutter a thanks to him.

"What's the password again?" he asks, and I raise one eyebrow when I hear that. Are the others around? Is he playing at something?

Lily pushes herself to the front, taking charge as usual, and tells the Fat Lady the password. I guess that's why she became Prefect, not me.

I've wanted to be a Hogwarts Prefect ever since I heard how my parents had met – they had both been assigned to patrol the corridors together. I was seven when I first heard the story, and I thought it was the most romantic thing ever.

I guess a small part of me still wishes I could be a Prefect, you know? Last year, I was pretty jealous of Lily Evans, but then seeing her carry out her duties made me realise that I'll never be able to match up to that level of dedication. I have a tendency to slack.

I'm brought out of my musings when a voice asks me, "Hey, you all right?"

I find that we're in the common room now. James is touching my elbow, looking at me in concern.

"Yes, of course, why?"

"You look like you spaced out for a minute."

I give him a wry smile, as the gears in my head start churning. Damn, this boy is pretty good at reading people, or at least, at reading me. I don't understand how he can't read Lily, then. I mean, she's an open book.

"So, I was wondering if I could talk to you? In private?" he says, a little loudly.

I turn around to glance at Alice and Marlene. They're both watching with avid interest.

"Now?" I ask him, playing along.

"Yes," he says, pulling me by my arm towards the large lampshade in the corner of the room. We haven't even gotten a chance to sit down yet, and he wants to do this already?

He positions me such that I'm against the wall and he's facing me. Marlene gives me a thumbs up sign, and I try not to scoff. I search for Lily, but I can't find her. This was supposed to be for her benefit, after all.

"I'm going to ask you out now," he states.

"Act a little nervous," I tell him quietly.

I can see that James' mates have all entered the room. And they're all staring at the two of us. It feels like someone is shining a giant spotlight on the two of us.

"And also, your friends are here," I add, still whispering. Can the others lip-read me? It certainly looks like Marlene is trying to do that from that armchair that both she and Alice have squished into.

He runs his hands through his hair. So that's what he thinks his nervous tell is. _Interesting_.

"Umm, right. I told them that I'm getting over Lily by trying out with other girls. They all seemed happy, to be honest."

"James, stop delaying it. Marlene looks suspicious."

"Right. Sarah Davies. Would you like to spend some time with me at Hogsmeade this Saturday?" he asks, a little too loudly.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see Marlene's eyes pop out. I try not to snigger at it. Marlene is such an adorable dork, really. I should see if I can set her up with Fabian Prewett. Everyone knows she's been pining for him since her Second Year. And being one of her best friends, I am subjected to her daily lectures about Prewett's hotness.

Why is it my crushes never last for long? I think the longest I've ever fancied someone is for eleven months. I guess the boys at Hogwarts just don't do it for me.

James is looking at me with panic clearly written in his eyes, probably because I haven't answered him yet. He runs his hand through his hair once again.

A part of me wonders how it would be if I say no. But obviously, I'm not a Slytherin, because I can't ever stab someone in the back, even if it's about something as trivial as fake-dating.

"It's a date," I tell him, smiling.

It's more like I'm smiling for the benefit of our silent spectators, whose reactions are pretty funny to watch. It looks like the gossip session just got confirmed. Brilliant.

James moves away a little, and I can now go back upstairs. I whisper as I pass by, hoping I'm clear enough. "Meet me here at 5:30 AM tomorrow."

I stress on the 'AM' part, not wanting to give room for any confusion. It's at moments like these that I feel I've inherited my mother's Ravenclaw brain.

He briefly nods, and I loudly say, "Goodnight!"

I hurry over to Alice and Marlene, and we rush upstairs. Or rather, they rush upstairs and pull me along, despite my being unwilling. It looks like they can't wait to get the gossip session started.

Just bloody brilliant.

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 **AN:** Reviews are love. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**So far:**

Sarah has agreed to help James, in the secret hope that he'll help her with her Transfiguration homework. Lily is wary, Marlene and Alice are excited, and the other Marauders are oblivious to what's going on – it's a good thing no one else knows that the whole thing is fake.

* * *

 **PLAYING PRETEND**

 _CHAPTER 2_

* * *

 _September 16th, 1976_

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My wand wakes me up at 5:25 AM the next morning, with a sound that is suspiciously similar to trumpeting elephants.

The alarm trick that my dad taught me last summer has come in handy – it wakes only the owner of the wand. But after this first experience with it, I suggest you don't try waking this way, unless you want to wake up with a heart-attack.

I quietly wash my face and brush my teeth, before throwing on a bathrobe over my pyjamas and going downstairs. The common room is empty, thankfully. It looks like not even the paranoid Seventh Years are up yet. I wonder if this time next year, I too will be worrying about the NEWTs. I'd like to say I wouldn't, but I'm a worrier.

I stare out the window, watching the lightening sky. According to the grandfather clock in the corner, James is late. Why am I not too surprised?

A voice to my left says 'boo' and for the second time that day, I almost have a heart-attack.

"Did I scare you?" asks a familiar voice, laughing, as I roll my eyes and try to still my pounding my heart.

I turn around and whisper-yell at him, "What is _wrong_ with you? Are you mental?"

He too is in his bedclothes, only that he isn't wearing a bathrobe like me. It looks like Marlene's theory of the Sixth Year boys sleeping naked is completely wrong. I try to suppress my grin.

"Aww, don't be like that, I was just having a little fun," he says, pouting.

"You know what? You should try having this fun with Frank Longbottom. That way, it'll be fun for me too."

I'm probably an awful friend for doing this, but I feel a little replaced. Alice has been so in _lurve_ through the summer, sending me infrequent letters and even more infrequently meeting up with Marlene and me that I've started resenting the boy.

Seeing him on a daily basis the past two weeks has annoyed me even more.

"Do you want to see Headboy Longbottom get pranked, almost mysteriously?" he asks, as I lead him to an empty tête-à-tête. I sit on the other side and face him, giving him the best poker-face I have.

"Let's just say I wouldn't be opposed to it, just the way I wasn't opposed to seeing the hair of the Slytherin Quidditch team turn gold and red last year," I say. James responds with a cocky smile.

"I'll put in a word with the perpetrators of that prank about your wishes," he says, and I shake my head and stifle my standard eye-roll. Does he realise that most of us fellow Gryffindors already know that him and his mates are behind most of these comedic incidents?

"You do that, and in the mean time, we'll start discussing the plan. We don't have much time now, so let's just decide on what we'll do today, okay? Lily wasn't there when you 'asked me out' last night," I say, making finger quotation marks – that's a habit of mine which I just can't seem to shake off.

James nods and mutters something that sounds a lot like 'I realised,' but I ignore it and continue with my speech.

"So the first phase of the thing is done with. By the time Alice, Marlene and I went up, Lily's curtains were already drawn, so she'll only be able to find out today. But until then, you can continue doing what you did yesterday – which was very good, by the way – carrying my bag, helping me to my seat and all that. Hopefully, Lily will notice it once again."

"You think Lily noticed that?" he asks, his eyes lighting up.

He looks so adorable at the moment, with his bedhead and his glasses which seem to be slipping off his nose a little at a time. I guess it's a little hard to understand why such a cute guy has to resort to stalking Lily, instead of being normal around her the way he is around us other girls.

"If my powers of observation are correct, she did. So do the same today, but smile now and then at me in the middle of classes– not like that!" I exclaim, as James smiles creepily at me, with all his teeth out, his nose flared and his eyes scrunched up.

"Stop it!" I cry, sniggering a little. This boy is just so immature and fun to be around that it makes this whole thing double the fun. I get to carefully plan a mission, and I also get to have a personal clown.

He smiles normally now, and I continue, "We share almost all our classes, I think, except Ancient Runes. Don't do anything like trying to sit next to me, because that'll come out as you being a bit overbearing. So proceed as you did yesterday."

"Yes, ma'am," he says, nodding his head solemnly. I simply continue.

"Right, so now, in case Lily finds out about it and questions either of us about it – what we're trying to do is check if we can elicit a reaction from her. So if she does ask either of us, or our friends about it, it matters. If she asks you about it, seeing as you did get rejected by her again yesterday, play it off coolly, saying it's just a date between friends.

"If she asks me, I'll say pretty much the same thing, insisting that we're 'just friends.' Nothing throws people off as much as saying 'just friends.' Hopefully, she'll take the bait. Now if she asks Marlene and Alice about it, they'll be sure to tell me.

"But if she does ask one of your friends, there'll be no way of finding out, unless they tell you. And remember, you can't ask them, otherwise you'll be blowing your cover. They'll be curious to know why you're asking about Lily, when you're supposedly trying to move on from her.

"Any questions?" I ask him, as I finish, and he smiles at me crookedly. I've never seen him smile that way, ever, and I feel this tingling somewhere deep inside me. Damn, despite wearing glasses, this guy can look hot.

"Do you want to become an Auror after Hogwarts?" he asks.

My brows furrow as I answer, "Sort of. I've always assumed that that's what I'll become... How did you know?"

He gives me that crooked smile once again, as he says, "The subjects you've chosen, your attention to detail and your strategising skills."

"Looks like you're observant too," I reply, wryly, to which he smirks.

"I think you'll make a brilliant Auror."

"Really?" I ask, feeling my face flush. It's certainly nice to hear such positive things at six in the morning. It does really nice things to one's ego.

"Yes, really. I should know, my father is the Head Auror."

"Whoa, really? That's so awesome. Does he discuss cases with you at home?" I ask, belatedly realising it's a personal question. But it must be so cool, right?

"Sometimes, but not always. This summer, with the Death Eater raids, it's been all gory news, I'm afraid."

His voice turns bitter when he says the words 'Death Eaters'. Privately, I'm glad that I'm not helping out a maniac. He's a Pureblood, after all. He doesn't really have to take the side of us Halfbloods or the Muggleborns.

I don't tell him that, though.

The grandfather clock starts chiming six times, and I decide it's time to wrap up our session.

I stand up as I say, "We'll have to meet up once every day, to discuss our progress. Once we get into the dating phase, it'll be infinitely easier to have these sessions. We can say we needed the privacy for fooling around."

We've reached the stairs by now, and as I climb onto the first step, he says rather cheekily, "Is fooling around a part of our deal?"

I turn around to look at him, and he gives me a lopsided grin. I shake my head amusedly and give him my most eloquent response.

"Bugger off, James."

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* * *

Double Charms with Ravenclaws is the first class of the day, and while waiting outside for Professor Flitwick to let us in, Marlene and I have fun taking the mickey out of Alice. She's so easy to tease, and it's often things that she foolishly says out loud that give us fodder for our corny jokes.

James and his mates all turn up at the same time, swaggering into the corridor trying to look cool and disinterested. I try not to roll my eyes.

I need to be fair, though. It's only James and Sirius who walk that way, as if they own the hallowed corridors of Hogwarts. Peter usually walks right behind those two, worshipping the ground they've walked on, while Remus walks humbly a little away from the entourage, often wrapped up in his own thoughts.

All four of them are lovely chaps. They're not as stuck up as they portray themselves to be. Privately, I think James and Sirius might even be drama queens on the inside. However, just because they've always been nice to us Gryffindor yearmates doesn't mean that I'm blind to their flaws.

I know that they have bullied other people, mainly Slytherins. While the pranks that they (might) have played on the snakes are harmless, their targeting individuals based on their wealth or name has often left me feeling uncomfortable. And when I say 'their,' I mean James' and Sirius'. As far as I know, Remus never participates in these things, while Peter stands to the side, offering words of encouragement to the duo.

You see, their despicable behaviour reminds me of some of my _wonderful_ cousin, who used to pretty much do the same things back when she was in Hogwarts, only that she used blood purity and affiliation to said ideals about purity as her criteria to pick on people. Lucky for her, her younger sister is still in Hogwarts, which means I still haven't really caught a break yet.

James catches my eye and I give him a brief nod, before turning to ask Alice about the homework due today.

I guess Marlene, Alice and I are lucky that way, we share all our classes, except for one. We even have the same dream, as dumb as that sounds. We all want to be Aurors. Marlene and I don't mind becoming Hit Wizards, but Alice is dead keen on becoming an Auror. And she'll make a bloody brilliant one, I _know_.

"Sarah?"

I turn around and find Lily looking at me oddly, her brows furrowed.

"Hey, Lily," I greet her, as I see James pay attention from the other side of the corridor out of the corner of my eye. That boy is way too obsessed with the pretty redhead who's standing in front of me.

"I found out at breakfast that Potter asked you out?"

Wow, she's blunt and to the point, which surprises me a lot. She usually exercises a lot more tact than this.

"Just to hang out at Hogsmeade this weekend. Nothing more," I reply, looking for any visual cue that might tell me what she's thinking.

She looks tired, the poor thing. Her best friend, Janice Thicke, a Seventh Year Gryffindor, had been admitted to St. Mungo's with dragon pox. Dragon pox is usually not a very serious disease; its Muggle equivalent is chicken pox. However, dragon pox can be quite harmful if you're allergic to the ingredients used in the cure.

This whole thing had led to Slughorn giving us a lecture about finding substitutes to the ingredients used in everyday potions.

I'm confident that Thicke will be all right in no time, seeing as my dad is the Head Healer at St. Mungo's, and my mum is the Potions Mistress who gets the special cases from Mungo's.

"There are some things you need to know. Potter isn't a very nice person. He's a bully who loves picking on people whom he thinks are below him. I've seen that side of him, and I just don't want you getting hurt when you realise all his niceness is just a façade."

This throws me a little, because that is literally the last thing I had expected her to tell me. She's a genuinely nice person, and somehow, this only makes me appreciate her all the more. It's like the whole 'Prefect' thing has made me actively search for qualities in her that show me how much she deserves the position.

"Thanks for the warning. I really appreciate it," I tell her, trying to sound as genuine as possible.

She smiles wanly, and she just looks so bloody tired that I decide to make an effort to be nice to her, at least for the day.

"Did you actually eat anything at breakfast?" I ask her, and she shakes her head, grimacing. I take out an apple from my bag and give it to her.

"I can't have my favourite Charms partner fainting in the middle of class, can I?" I say, trying to make her smile.

My effort doesn't go in vain, and her lips turn up ever so slightly, hinting at the starting of a smile.

Marlene ropes me into a conversation about the upcoming Quidditch trials, and this time when James catches my eye, he smiles broadly at me.

* * *

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* * *

"Soooo, what did she say?" comes a voice from right beside me, and I don't need to turn around to see that James has dropped into the place next to me.

Alice and Marlene have their Muggle Studies class right now, which means I have a free hour. I've told them time and again that their Muggle Studies text book is still set in the Victorian era, but they never listen to me. They think that having a Muggle Studies NEWT will give them a greater chance of getting into the Auror program.

Thank Merlin for my mixed heritage.

Though I should probably not be too quick in thanking Merlin, seeing as my free hour has just become, well, un-free.

"And hello to you too, James."

"What did she say?"

I look up at him from my storybook. Don't judge me now, I _know_ I have homework to finish, but as you already know, I tend to slack. I'm a pro at procrastinating. I put the _pro_ in procrastinating.

Ha! That's actually pretty witty. I should write that down somewhere.

"Rule number one of dating, James. Don't bother the girl you're dating or fake-dating when she's reading her favourite book," I deadpan.

I look down to see that he's grabbed my book from my lap. And also, he's closed the book to see the cover. He's lost my page.

He must have seen my expression, for he says, "You're on page 122, Sarah."

I just watch him inspecting my book.

"The Magician's Nephew," he reads out slowly.

I tilt my head to my side and continue watching him. He frowns slightly as he flips through the pages.

"Is it a Muggle book?" he asks, at long last

"Yup," I say, popping my 'p'. It's another bad habit, according to my mum.

"Tell me what Lily said and I'll give you your book back," he says, smirking slightly.

And here I was, thinking he was the epitome of all things Gryffindor!

"James!" I cry, trying to reach up and grab the book from where he's holding it high above his head.

I'm this awkward height of 5'6''. I'm not tall, I'm not short. I'm stuck somewhere in the middle. Which means my arms aren't that long either. Did you know that the span of our arms is the same as our vertical height? Which means each arm of mine is roughly a little less than half of 5'6'', not including the distance between my shoulders.

All right, that's enough basic Arithmancy for the day.

Anyways, James is definitely more than 6 feet tall. So not only are his arms longer, his torso is also longer, which means it's virtually impossible to get my book back. And I could have explained that without getting into the math, hmm?

He's smirking at me, so I do the thing that I always do when my Muggle cousin is annoying me – I tickle him. But what I didn't expect was for James to be so bloody ticklish.

He drops the book on the floor and tries to tickle me. But I'm merciless and relentless.

"Stop, Merin, stop," he says, in between gasps of laughter. I don't stop.

"Aww, is Jamesie ticklish?" I ask him, when he unexpectedly retaliates by successfully tickling me back. I shriek into laughter. And this is why people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones; I'm extremely ticklish as well.

Here we are, two teenagers, rolling about the sofa laughing like six year olds. I'm not entirely sure how we got horizontal on the sofa.

"Am I interrupting?" comes a snide voice from the direction of the portrait hole, and James and I fall to the floor with a loud thud.

"Oomph," groans James.

"Get off, Potter. You're heavy," I say, still breathless from our mindless tickle attack.

When I was younger, my dad used to tickle-attack me all the time. He claimed it was a new martial art, much like Kung Fu, called Tickle Fu. But I never fell for that, obviously.

James rolls off and I get up to look into the smirking face of Sirius Black. Now that's one hot looking boy. I don't know how his genetics didn't screw him up, seeing as the Blacks are super incestuous.

Did I mention that my cousins are also Blacks?

"What?" I ask eloquently, as James stretches on the floor and picks up my book.

"Sarah and I were just reading," he says, looking entirely too innocent. I narrow my eyes at that.

"More like Sarah was reading and James was bothering her," I say, and at that, Sirius throws his head back and lets out a bark of laughter.

"That sounds more like the James I know," he laughs.

"Have you ever seen him with a book?" I ask, and Sirius throws me a broad grin.

Meanwhile James cries out, affronted, "Hey!"

It's much later in the day, when I'm having dinner with Alice and Marly that I realise that I never did tell James what Lily and I spoke about.

* * *

;;

* * *

 **End notes:**

#1. Tickle Fu was something my dad used to tease me with when I was younger, and I just had to mention it. So it's not really mine. And that scene in this chapter? It wasn't meant to be the least bit romantic; it's just good fun between friends.

#2. According to canon, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter died of dragon pox sometime between 1979 and 1980. But I'm disregarding that and am assuming that there is a cure for the disease.

* * *

 **Guest review replies:**

HappyTerrier: Thank you so much for saying that. I've developed Sarah's character over a few months, and I'm doing my best to ensure she's utterly average, the exact opposite of a Mary Sue. Thanks for reading and reviewing. :)

Bristol: Aaaah! Aaron Taylor-Johnson looks absolutely fabulous! Thanks for suggesting some lovely eye-candy to a lonely girl. ;)

anon: You're making me blush! I feel like you've read my mind perfectly. I'm trying to keep Sarah realistic, and your review has done great things to my confidence. Bitchy and one-dimensional Lily is a trope I'm tired as well! *virtual high five* The story will be a slow build, and there will be pining, but I doubt there'll be jealousy... on Sarah's part that is. ;) Thanks a lot for reading and reviewing, you made my day. :)

* * *

 **AN:**

I plan to update the story on the seventh day of every month, give or take a couple of days. But if I do get more than, say, twenty reviews, I'll update once in the middle of the month as well. :) Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**So far:**

Lily warns Sarah that James isn't really a nice person, and Sarah doesn't have the heart to tell him that that's what Lily thinks of him. In the meantime, Marlene is still mooning over Fabian and Alice is falling more in love with Frank everyday. Thankfully, Sarah has the fake-date with James on Saturday to take her mind off her friends' issues.

* * *

 **PLAYING PRETEND**

 _CHAPTER 3_

* * *

 _September 17th, 1976_

* * *

"Sooo, how was Quidditch practice?" I ask Marlene as she throws herself onto the sofa next to me. Alice is sitting cross-legged on the floor, doing a crossword in the Daily Prophet.

"Horrible. Absolutely horrible. May be on your date tomorrow, you can ask Potter to go easy on us. At this rate, there _won't_ be a match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor next week, because all the Gryffindor players – and the subs too – would be dead!" she rants, and I try not to smile.

Alice ignores her completely in favour of her crossword.

"I agree, James is killing us," drawls someone behind us, and I don't need to turn around to see it's Sirius. And where Sirius goes, James goes. And where James goes, Peter goes. I think Remus is the only one who chooses to spend time away from his gang.

"Do you want to win next week or _not_? And be happy I didn't schedule a practice tomorrow before the Hogsmeade visit. I could keep one during the visit, and you'd all have to cancel your plans for the day. Remember, I could always do that. So shut up and quit whining," James says, without pausing to take a breath.

Remus, who's perusing some Potions manual looks up with a cheeky grin and voices exactly what I've been thinking. "Merlin, take a breath, James."

"I think I'll go polish my broom now," James says dramatically, before making his way up the boys' staircase.

"He meant it exactly the way he said it," adds Sirius in a solemn voice, though his eyes are sparkling with mischief, as he proceeds to take a seat next to Remus on the tête-à-tête.

I roll my eyes at the innuendo, but am prevented from replying by the ever wonderful Head Boy who has come to grace us all with his presence. He unceremoniously drops down next to Alice, onto the floor.

"What's a seven lettered word for Muggle literature with three witches?" she asks, and Longbottom, Marlene and Alice all look at me expectantly. As if I'm the resident expert on all things Muggle.

"That's so vague. There are so many witches and wizards in Muggle literature. Wizard of Oz has three – no, two – witches and one wizard. The Chronicles Of Narnia has one. Wait. Macbeth has three. Does Macbeth fit?" I ask, as Alice shakes her head.

"The 'B' fits, but the 'M' doesn't," she says, scowling at the paper.

"I think you've got 'actonite' wrong. It should be 'mandrake'. They're both used in potions that help people who fall into comas" says Frank Longbottom, and Alice turns to look at him with her eyes wide.

"You're so smart, Frankie."

I nudge Marlene with the my trainer-clad foot. She makes a face, obviously as disgusted as me at the way _'Frankie'_ and Alice are staring into each other's eyes.

And then when they start making out on the floor, ignoring the giggling First Years and Second Years, Marlene and I make our way upstairs. Hopefully, one of the prudish Fourth Years will tell Longbottom off.

It's not as though being in our dorm is any less awkward, because though Lily's curtains are drawn, I can hear her sobbing uncontrollably. Marlene and I exchange a glance, because it's obvious that Lily's forgotten her usual silencing charm.

We collect our things and make our way into the adjoining bathroom quietly, to get ready for the night.

* * *

;;

* * *

"You have to wear these green robes, they go well with your hair!" exclaims Alice loudly, and I try not to insult her by covering my ears. How can such a pixie-like female pack so much volume into her voice?

"Alice," I grit out. It's only nine in the morning. "I'm going to Hogsmeade, not a fucking ministry ball. So will you please leave me alone?"

Marlene pitches in her two Knuts about my attire from where she's sprawled on my bed.

"Ali has the colour right, though. You should wear that dark green sweater you have."

"Yes! That and a perfectly sensible skirt– hey! What are you taking out?" screeches Alice, her voice so high I'm surprised dogs haven't come running in.

"I'm wearing jeans, Als. Now quit worrying about me."

"B-but," she splutters, sitting down resignedly next to Marly.

"Don't fret love, be like me. I've gone Zen," she says, rubbing Alice's back. I hold back a snort of laughter at that.

"I don't recall you being all that Zen last night when you were complaining about James," I remind her, as I take out a pair of tiny gold half-ring earrings from the drawer of my bedside table.

They're really pretty earrings. They belonged to my mum, before she gave it to me last summer after my OWLs. Apparently her mother had gotten her those for coming first in the OWLs.

"Look at you, ditching your friends and defending your boooyfriend the moment he asks you out," drawls Marlene, stretching out the 'boyfriend' in a singsong voice.

"Oh, shut up," I say, making my way into the bathroom, which is almost as large as our dorm. It has four shower stalls and four large vanities. It's a surprise that any Gryffindor girl manages to be on time to breakfast.

When I step out, finally dressed, I notice Alice biting her lip and staring at me.

"What?"

"It isn't first-date dressing, it's a bit too casual."

"It _is_ casual."

"At least wear that shiny lip thing your cousin's girl got you. May be James will want to snog you senseless," says Marlene, waggling her eyebrows, and I try not to roll my eyes.

Am I dressing way too casually because it isn't really a date? Do I need to put more effort in?

I spray some mild perfume on for extra effect and put on some lip gloss. Once Alice and Marlene look slightly satisfied, I hug them goodbye and go downstairs, to find James leaning against the wall by the portrait hole.

"Hey," he greets, running his hand through his hair in what's he thinks is a self-assured manner. It only makes him look cute like a tiny kid whose cheeks you want to pinch.

"Hi," I say, trying not to smile too much. "Ready for our first fake-date?"

"Of course, mademoiselle," he says, bending low and kissing my hand, before presenting me with a bouquet of flowers. They're plastic, and I'm pretty sure are from a Muggle party-favour kit which I've seen David, my Muggle cousin, tinkering around with.

"I'm charmed, Potter," I say, sarcastically, though I'm smiling.

"You clean up well, Davies," he says. The thing is, I haven't dressed to impress. This is how I look every weekend. So I tell him so.

"Oh," he says. "The book Sirius got me says I should comment on the witch's looks on the first date."

"That's for the usual set of witches. We're talking about Lily. Who's pretty smart. So when you mean to compliment her, you really must mean it, otherwise she'll see right through it."

"But Lily's always beautiful," he says, a besotted expression on his face, as I take him by the elbow and lead him out the portrait hole. There's no point in one of the nosy Fifth Years overhearing our conversation.

"Then maybe if you ever do start dating her, you should tell her that every day, even if she's dressed in the most ratty clothes, or has frizzy hair. And when she dresses up, you should pick on a particular feature and say why you like it."

"Those Muggle jeans really suit you," he says, seriously, as his eyes rove up and down my legs. When he looks back at my face, I wink at him.

"You're the getting the hang of this."

He grins at me, and it's so infectious, I'm grinning too.

* * *

;;

* * *

James and I are waiting in the queue at Honeydukes to make our purchases, when my dearest cousin walks up to me, her long blonde hair braided into some fancy style, with a few wavy strands framing her face.

It's unfair how despite having the same shade of blonde, her hair sits so prettily, while mine doesn't.

"Potter, your tastes have improved. A Halfblood is better than that Mudblood you used to pursue."

"Narcissa," I warn in a low voice, trying to grip James' right arm. He's taken out his wand.

"I have to say, cousin, you've stooped low, haven't you? Whoring yourself for a boy you know has eyes for that Mudblood slut."

"Has Lucius grown bored of you and your prudish ways yet?" I ask, stepping in front of James, who looks apoplectic. He's probably furious that she's called Lily the M-word twice.

"Lucius and I will be getting married a week after the Graduation Ball. You're not invited," she sniffs.

"I'd rather eat flobberworms than attend your wedding," I say, glaring at her.

She tosses her head back daintily and announces, "Don't muddy the Rosier name more than your mother already has, cousin. It would do you well to be subservient to your superiors."

"You are in no way superior to Sarah, you gold-digger," cuts in James, and I look at him in mild surprise.

This sparring thing that Narcissa and I are indulging in? It's something we've been doing since my First Year. She calls me 'cousin' and I call her Narcissa, primarily because I know she hates it.

"High positions are wasted on Mudbloods and Blood Traitors. Both your fathers should be wary, hmm?" she says, sneering at both of us, before walking out of the shop.

I lean against James' tense form and leave out a sigh of relief.

"How is she your cousin?"

"Can we please not talk about this now? That bitch just left the place. Let's just finish billing and get out of here," I say tiredly.

* * *

;;

* * *

"Want to tell me about your cousin now?" asks James, sliding into the seat opposite me, having procured two bottles of Butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta.

"What do you want to know?" I ask him, pausing to close the new book I'd bought less than twenty minutes back.

"Narcissa Black is your cousin? Does that mean Sirius is your cousin too?" he asks, popping both our bottles open. I take one and sip the sweet drink carefully.

"No, no. Narcissa's mother and my mother are sisters. Half-sisters, actually, but Narcissa and her sisters don't know that. And you're not allowed to ask why."

"But Davies isn't a magical family," he says, the froth on his upper lip making him look cute.

"It isn't. My dad is, in Narcissa's words, a Mudblood. My mum got blasted off the Rosier family tree for running away with my dad."

"Wow," he says, his eyes glinting. I have a feeling he is wildly impressed by the story of how my parents eloped.

"Moving on to more disturbing things. What do you think she meant by both our fathers needing to be wary?" I say, my eyebrows furrowing. I never like it when my useless cousins threaten my father. I know he's an adult, but I always feel it's my duty to protect him.

"Do you think it's some Death Eater task she's referring to?" he asks, a frown etched on his face.

"Your dad is the Head Auror. Mine is the Head Healer at St Mungo's. Is this Death Eater Army going to take control of the law enforcement and the health departments next?"

"I dunno. But my father's told me about how they have well placed moles in the ministry already," he says, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I don't like what Narcissa said. It's a bit scary," I confess, sighing a little.

"If it comes to it, we'll fight back," he says, taking my hand in his and squeezing it. I smile at him for trying to make me feel better.

"Changing the topic... Wait, is that your mates out there, dancing like orang-utans?" I ask, my attention diverted completely.

"Going by your description, it's very likely," groans James, before turning to look through the large glass window.

Sirius' eyes are wide, and he's making kissy faces. Peter is intently staring at us, or rather, he's staring at our entwined hands on the table. Remus just looks embarrassed to be there.

"Let's get going, have we paid for the beers?" I ask him, standing up.

"No worries, I paid for it," he says nonchalantly, picking up his coat. Who'd have thought that James Potter would own a leather jacket? Not me, for sure. I have a feeling it belongs to Sirius, though.

"James."

"What?"

"This is the 1970's. Witches like to pay for things. And Lily is a Muggleborn witch; she's going to be that much more progressive. You have to split the bill, you know?" I say, gently prising my hand out of his.

I pick up our bags, and James takes half of them out of my hands.

"It's just manners that the wizard gets the bill," he says, as we move away from the table.

"Now that's just chauvinistic," I say, as we near the door. We're about to step out, when I notice there's froth still stuck to his upper lip.

"Hold on, you have a Butterbeer moustache," I mutter quietly, rubbing it away with my fingers. The whole thing feels so intimate, as I watch James' eyes flutter shut.

"Oi, are you two done? Or do you need a room?" comes a shout, and I see that Sirius has opened the door to yell at us for no reason.

"Sod off, Black," I tell him, before walking out. James follows closely behind me.

"Thanks," he says in my ear, his voice oddly rough.

"No problem," I reply absently, because I can see Marlene standing boredly against the wall of Scrivenshaft.

"Thank Merlin you're finally out. Let's go eat some lunch at the Hog's Head," she says, as a way of greeting.

"We're all eating together?" I ask, eyeing our weird group.

"You didn't think we'd let you lovebirds have the whole day to yourselves, did you?" says Sirius, waggling his eyebrows.

I stifle a groan and follow the group slowly, taking comfort from the fact that James doesn't look too thrilled either.

* * *

;;

* * *

"How do you think I did today?" asks James, as we both watch the scenery, sitting on a broken wooden fence that runs along the cliff.

"Technically, the day isn't over," I say, swinging my legs.

"But how's it been so far?" he persists.

"It's been good. I had fun," I tell him, turning my head to look into his anxious hazel eyes. I never realised his eyes had flecks of green in them.

"I need a more critical analysis," he says, drawing his lips together. And that draws my attention to his lips.

"Uh," I say, racking my brains to figure out where to start. "The flowers were a nice touch. And almost all girls like flowers, so that was smart. Unless the girl is allergic to flowers. My cousin's fiancée, well, she's allergic to petunias, so their first date was a disaster."

James looks amused by that, but I continue before he can ask me about the incident. "But Lily is a very serious person, so I don't know if she'd have appreciated the gag flowers. But I have a wacky sense of humour, so I loved them," I finish, smiling a little sheepishly.

James grins at me. "I knew you'd love them!"

"I did," I agree, smiling.

"So what are your favourite real flowers then?" he asks.

"Dahlias."

"Dahlias?" he asks, and I nod my head vigorously.

"Red ones, to be particular. What's yours?"

"Flowers? Guys don't like flowers."

"Oh hush. Stop being so sexist about what defines a guy and what defines a girl. There are male herbologists, you know? So your point is sort of moot."

"Fine, I guess sunflowers."

"Really? I thought you'd say lilies," I say wryly. James sticks his tongue out at me.

"I'm not _that_ desperate!"

"Are you sure? Fake-dating a girl does sound pretty desperate," I tease.

His face becomes serious though. "What Black said... Don't take her seriously. You're not whoring yourself out."

"Of course I'm not. She's an idiot. _You_ don't take her so seriously.," I tell him, smiling faintly.

"Fine," he says, still looking sombre. So I poke him in the cheek the way I used to poke David's cheek when he looked too serious.

"Don't you want the rest of my _critical analysis_ , Mr. Quidditch Captain? The flowers were a nice touch. Remember to realistically praise the witch. Don't take her to Puddifoot's. And let her offer to pay the bill."

"That bill's a sore point with you, isn't it?" he asks, smirking slightly.

"A bit," I admit. "I'll pay the next time we get Butterbeers!" I say cheerfully.

"A bit presumptuous of you to assume we'll be having another date, isn't it, Ms. Davies?" he says, jumping off the fence.

"As presumptuous as I can be about a fake-date," I retort, letting James pull me off the fence.

"In which case, would you like to go out a second time, Ms. Davies?" he asks, smiling. I like the way his eyes crinkle when he does that.

"I'd love that, Mr. Potter."

* * *

;;

* * *

"Oooh, did you both kiss? How was it? Did the sparks fly?" asks Alice, being uncharacteristically nosy.

"Bugger off, Ali," I tell her, pulling my pillow across my face to block out the light.

Marly, Alice and I are lazing around in our dorm before dinner, discussing our days. Apparently Prewett had offered to buy Marly a Butterbeer at Madam Rosmerta's, so the girl's been ecstatic for the past few hours.

"I've always wondered if Sirius is a good kisser, you know? All those girls talking about how well he snogs them in broom cupboards... It's possible that he could have taught some of his skills to James," says Marly, making me sit up in the bed.

I notice that Alice too is eyeing her with disgust.

"Marlene Anne McKinnon. What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" I ask her, just as Alice screeches, "I thought you liked Fabian!"

Marlene sits up on her bed, propping herself on an elbow. "I do like Fabian. But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate another guy."

I throw myself back onto my bed, deciding to tune out Alice's lecture to Marly about propriety and such.

It feels like moments later that I'm being woken up.

"C'mon Sleeping Beauty, it's time for dinner!" chirps Alice in my ear.

I get up slowly to see that it's seven. I've napped for around two hours.

"If I'm Sleeping Beauty, does that make you Rapunzel?" I ask her, as I try to run a brush through the top of my hair to make it remotely presentable, as I make my way to my vanity in the bathroom.

"Hey! That means I want to Belle from Beauty And The Beast!" asks Marlene from where she's busy powdering her nose.

"That means Fabian is a beast, huh?" asks Alice, who's just leaning against the door frame.

"Hopefully Prewett's a beast in bed, rawwwr! I like my guys rough," says Marlene cheekily, and I cover my eyes with my hands. I'm surprised that a person who loves dating guys is still hung up on just one. It doesn't make sense to me.

"Rah, you never told us if James kissed you," prompts Ali, bringing me out of musings about Marlene.

"He didn't, we're just friends. I told you that. It wasn't a date."

"Right," says Marlene decisively, "I totally believe you."

It's obvious she doesn't believe me.

"Are you guys going on another date?" asks Alice.

And isn't that the question I've been trying to avoid? I sigh and smoothen my hair, before pulling it into a ponytail.

"Yeah, James and I thought we'd just hang out some more. I don't know when, but he was really sweet about it. We had a nice time today."

Marlene's eyes have gone wide, and I turn around on my stool to see that Lily's rushed in, her hair a flying mess (read: worse than mine). She looks awkward, standing next to a calm and composed Alice.

"You're going on another date with Potter?" she asks, her eyebrows shooting up, even as she struggles to catch her breath.

"Not really a date, Lils. Just hanging out as friends, that's all," I say. I change the topic. "What's got you in a rush anyway?"

"I just got an owl that Janice is better now. They're moving her to Hogwarts' hospital wing later tonight. I thought I'd finish dinner early and help Madam Pomfrey set up a bed and some dark curtains for Jan, apart from checking the potions stock and such," she says in a rush, her eyes shining brightly.

"That's wonderful news, love," I say, grinning back at her, as Alice gives the redhead a one-armed hug.

"You're really close to Thicke, aren't you?" asks Marlene.

"Yeah, she's the older sister I never had," she says, her smiling growing bigger even as her eyes dim.

I'm a bit confused, because I thought she had an older Muggle sister? I vaguely remember Lily telling us about her sister in First Year.

Before I can ask, Alice exclaims, "Merlin! It's 7:20! Hurry, you guys! Otherwise we won't be getting any food!"

So with food on our minds, the four of us Gryffindor Sixth Years rush downstairs, hoping to reach the Great Hall before the younger hordes come in to inhale the food.

It's only when I catch sight of my distorted reflection on a pitcher of pumpkin juice that I notice how frizzy my hair has become. I ignore it and instead stuff another forkful of corned beef into my mouth.

* * *

;;

* * *

 **End Notes:**

In canon, Narcissa was born in 1955. However, to suit the needs of this story, I've changed her year of birth to 1958. I've also changed the ages of the other Black sisters, which will become apparent in later parts of this story.

* * *

 **Review replies:**

Bristol: Joshua Brand, wow. :D He reminds me of a younger Sirius..? Or nooo, he's actually PERFECT for James. He's so cute! *blushes* I've got another person to stalk on Instagram now. :) Thanks for reading and reviewing! :)

jafcbutterfly: Hey, thanks for the review. :) I'd have thanked you personally, but your PM feature seems disabled. Thank you. :)

* * *

I'll see you next month. Review please! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** I'm sorry about the delay. I'll be prompt next time, I promise. :)

 **So far:** Sarah and James have gone on their first (fake) date, while Alice seems as madly in love with Frank as she was before. Lily's bestie, Janice is back from St Mungo's, and Sirius, Remus and Peter don't suspect a thing. Yay.

* * *

 **PLAYING PRETEND**

 _CHAPTER 4_

* * *

 _September 21st, 1976_

* * *

It's Tuesday, and McG has given us the next assignment. The topic of this week's essay is to explain why it's supposedly easier to transfigure animate objects into inanimate and not vice versa.

After this week, we'll be starting human transfiguration. And I know it's supposed to be an interesting topic and all that rot, but I'm pants at it – I'm going to have to start charging James for the 'dating advice' I give him.

Alice has ditched Marlene and me once again in favour of the Head Boy, much to my annoyance. But surprisingly, Lily has joined the two of us, and has willingly taken up the role of Alice – in other words, she's keeping us focussed on the task at hand – i.e., doing homework.

"Hey, Marls," comes a deep voice from behind us, and I turn around to see that it's Fabian's fraternal twin, Gideon. Those two are the Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I'm not sure how Marly gets through practice with Fabian there.

But then again, maybe that's _exactly_ why she joined the Quidditch team.

"And hello to you too," I say cheekily, at which he grins at me and Lily.

"Hello Davies, Evans. I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that my brother insisted that I hand over this to Marlene in private," he says good-naturedly, his cerulean eyes twinkling as he waves some sort of letter he's holding in his hand.

"And he couldn't get an owl to deliver it?" asks Lily, and I turn around to see that she has a shrewd look in her eyes.

 _What's going on?_

"Oh, you guys should continue working. I'll just hop outside for a mo'," says Marlene, standing up too quickly with a broad smile on her face. I watch with narrowed eyes as Gideon and Marlene make their way out of the library together.

"Is something going on?" I ask Lily.

"Not that I know of," she says coolly, but my internal antenna is up. I swear to Merlin, Morgana and every other deity out there that there's something going on. Or maybe I'm just suspicious that way. Dad thinks it's an excellent trait for an Auror hopeful to possess.

I'm about to question her further, when Remus and Peter stroll up to our table and ask if they can join us. I shrug, while Lily smiles at them angelically and tells them they're welcome.

I put my head down on the table, feeling mildly sleepy. It's just that the library's old-books-smell is soothing. And it's so warm and comfortable that I really can't help myself.

"What are you doing for Flitwick's class?" I hear Peter asking after some time. The quiet scratching of quills had nearly put me to sleep.

"We're going for spell creation," answers Lily brightly, and I finally raise my head enough to look at Remus and Peter, who look stunned.

"Spell creation is hard," says Remus warily, eyeing the two of us worriedly.

"Well, what are you doing?" I ask him.

"Pete and I are going to make a study of how modifications affect spell casting," says Remus with a pleasant smile.

"And what are Potter and Black doing?" asks Lily. I love how competitive she is. That's why I'm pretty sure the two of us are going to get the highest grade in Charms this year. This project contributes to sixty percent of the final grade, and hopefully it'll be an easy 'E', or if I'm super lucky, maybe even a hard 'O'.

"I don't think they've decided yet," answers Remus, and Lily's nose twitches in disdain.

I think Peter is offended on James' and Sirius' behalves, because he immediately springs to their defence. "They'll do just fine. They'll get their idea at the last minute and they'll do a brilliant job."

"You say that as though it's a good thing," says Lily, sniffing a little. I try not to laugh.

Marlene chooses that moment to join us, her face a bright red.

"What happened to your face?" I ask her bluntly, because there's no other way to tell her she looks like a tomato, right?

And then Remus does the oddest thing ever: he sniffs the air around him.

I turn to look at Lily to see that she has a knowing glint in her eyes. I turn my attention to Peter and note that he seems as clueless as me. But that's not really something to feel heartened about.

"Dinner starts in a few minutes, can we all leave?" asks Marlene, not answering my question.

As we're all walking down the corridor to the main staircase, I catch Marlene's eyes and look at her questioningly.

"It's just allergies," she mutters, before picking up her pace to walk next to Lily.

I continue walking slowly behind my Gryffindor yearmates, dragging my feet on the marble floor.

* * *

;;

* * *

After dinner, Alice, Marlene and I are lazily sprawled out in our corner of the common room, doing nothing in particular. Alice is going through dress catalogues to owl order something for Christmas; apparently she's spending it with the Longbottoms.

Marlene, out of sheer boredom, is charming my hair different colours as I read The Hobbit.

"Rah, can I borrow a quill?" asks Alice, holding up her broken one. I roll my eyes and start rummaging in my bag, when I spot the letter that I'd meant to send earlier today. You see, my parents are leaving to Germany tomorrow to attend a convention, and if I don't owl it within the next few hours, they won't know that I want _gebrannte mandeln_.

 _Gebrannte mandeln_ is this German delicacy that I'd first tried out a couple of years back; that was the first time I'd fallen in love. It's a really simple dish – almonds fried and coated with sugar. Auntie Lana had got my dad ten huge packets of these almonds when she'd travelled to Germany with the boyfriend she'd had that year. Thankfully, my dad had hated them, and the task of finishing the packets had fallen to me – a task which I had only been too happy to perform.

"Shite, I'll just stop by the owlery," I say, springing up from the sofa, causing Marlene to growl.

"Quill!" exclaims Alice, so I thrust the bag into Marlene's unwilling hands and tell her to get Alice a quill, before rushing towards the portrait door.

I open the door to hear Sirius regaling James with some story. The two of them are just standing outside, and haven't noticed that I'm there.

"And then I tell her, Prongsie, that she can go out with me only if she hexes Snivellus, and you know what she does? She goes all high and mi- Hey, Sarah, where you heading out to?"

"Have to send a letter," I tell them, grimacing, showing the letter in my hand. An amused look flits across Sirius' face.

"You know what Jamesie, you should walk your girl to the owlery," he says, turning to face his friend, making his voice low and suggestive.

I quirk an eyebrow upward and look at James exasperatedly. _I'm his girl?_ And also, what am I, _a dog_ , to be walked somewhere?

"Absolutely, mate. Shouldn't let girls walk unguarded through the corridors this late at night, not when those slimy snakes can be around."

My other eyebrow rises up to join its counterpart, as I glare at what they're insinuating. That I'm a girl who needs protection – no, that all girls need protection. It's an insult, really. I have a wand on me and my specialty is Defence. It's the one subject that I'm genuinely good at, and I don't need anyone else, especially a _male_ , to look out for me.

However, considering the fact that the Slytherins have been picking on Muggleborns lately, I should actually be thankful that I have someone who's willing to go with me, I guess? I dunno.

The only person who picks on me is Narcissa, and she always attacks alone. I can take her on any day. And really, she's all bark and no bite. She never carries out on any of her threats.

"Sarah?" asks James, and I come out of my inner musings to notice that both of them are staring at me expectantly.

"What?"

"Shall we go?" asks James, offering an arm.

For the sake of keeping up pretences, I hook my arm through this and brightly say, "Sure," as Sirius chuckles from behind. Honestly, what is there to chuckle about?

Once we've turned around the corner I shrug myself away from James and punch him on the shoulder.

"What was that for?" he asks, clutching his shoulder in an exaggerated manner.

"You _can't_ let a girl walk through these corridors late at night?"

"I _knew_ you'd be annoyed by that!" he cries, grinning broadly, as though he's won the lottery. But his hazel eyes are shining so brightly that I don't feel like chastising him anymore.

"You think you know me so well, huh?"

"Of course I do, love. You are my fake-girlfriend, after all," he says, taking hold of my hand in both of his, as though he's promising me the world. I shake my head in fond amusement and we continue walking in silence.

Right till we reach the owlery, he keeps swinging our joined hands up and down, like a small kid. Sometimes, I think that he suffers from some form of ADHD. It's a Muggle term, and stands for Attention Defiant Hyperactive Something. I'm not sure if that's the full form, but I'm pretty sure it's close enough. David used to have that when he was younger, before I was born.

The owlery is really cold, and I want to rub my hands up and down my arms in an attempt to warm myself, but that would mean having to let go of James' hand.

I look for the brown barn owl that I usually use to send my letters, trying not to shiver. I can't find him anywhere, though.

"Where's your owl?" asks James, looking up at the stands and the rafters to see if he can spot my old owl.

The thing is, I used to have an owl of my own. His name was Owly, and he'd been my mother's owl before he became mine. She'd bought him when I was four, and the best name I could come up with at that time was Owly.

I was _very_ creative, I know.

Owly was pretty old when my mum bought him, so he was practically ancient when he died last year. He'd collapsed in Alice's house, after delivering the last letter he would ever deliver. My dad and I had to Floo Owly's dead body back home to give him a proper burial under his favourite oak tree. I'd been right inconsolable throughout the whole thing.

Call me sentimental, but I still have that last letter kept safely in my drawer at home. Alice had been nice enough to return the letter. After all, Owly was the second friend I ever made, and it's not easy to forget a friend.

"Owly died last year, actually," I say quietly, trying not to disturb silent night.

"What happened?" asks James a bit too loudly, and an owl to our left hoots angrily.

"His age caught up with him," I say, when an owl as dark as coal swoops down towards us. I duck my head just in time.

"Meet Loki," says James proudly, petting the black owl that's sitting on his shoulder, the very same one that nearly took out my head.

"What happened to your other owl?" I ask, surprised. This is the first time I've seen this owl, and holy Morgana, he's beautiful.

"Sheba met the same fate as your Owly," he says, calmly stroking the owl's feathers.

"I'm so sorry," I tell him, squeezing his hand – he still hasn't let go of my hand – and he squeezes mine back.

"I'm sorry about Owly too," he says, and we both stand there looking at the rows of owls in the owlery, some of which are waking up only now.

My eyes, of their own volition, wander over to the nook that Owly had once claimed as his own, and I feel my throat closing up.

At long last, I pry my hand out of James' and move towards one of the older school owls, when something nips my ear sharply.

"Oww," I cry, covering my left ear with my hand, as James outright laughs. The weight on my left shoulder indicates that Loki is now sitting on my shoulder.

"I guess he wants to carry your letter. You should be honoured; he's usually nasty to people he doesn't know."

"Oh?"

"Here, I'll tie the letter," he says, taking the letter and twine from my right hand. I stand still as Loki holds out a leg for James.

"Davies' Household, Manchester," I tell the owl softly, seeing as he's sitting right next to my mouth. He nuzzles his head against my neck, which is so reminiscent of good ol' Owly. I reach up and pat his head, before he takes off.

* * *

;;

* * *

"So what's up with the Lily plan?" he asks.

We're both sitting cross-legged on the floor of a balcony that is two corridors away from the Gryffindor Tower, eating some chocolate.

"Well, if you remotely even insinuate that she's a weak witch who needs to be protected by _wizards_ , she'll castrate you," I say in a mock angry tone.

"What happened to damsels in distress and princesses that need to be saved?"

"They died last century," I assure him, as I watch the Whomping Willow move eerily in the moonlight. According to Alice, that ruddy tree is a _'gentle soul'_ , which just goes to show that she wasn't there when that tree tried to murder Marlene in Second Year.

"Seriously, what next though?"

"Maybe we can go on a few more fake-dates so that you have the dating thing perfected before we move on to behavioural stuff?"

"Works for me," he says, as he finishes off his piece of chocolate.

"Oh, and by the way James? Going out on one date with a girl doesn't make you her boyfriend, or her your girlfriend. When you finally score that date with Lily, don't go around announcing that she's yours, okay?"

"Is this because Sirius called you my girl?" he asks, a teasing grin on his face.

"Partly, and also because you don't want the girl you're dating to run in the opposite direction," I say, trying not to blush. It's stupid; there's no reason why I should be blushing.

"If you do run in the opposite direction, I'll give you an Order of Merlin," comes a cool, familiar voice.

"Lily!" I cry out, as we both turn around. Holy hell, how much of our conversation did she hear? A sheepish looking Remus is standing next to the redheaded witch.

"Curfew's in two minutes, what are you doing here? We'll lose house-points," she says severely.

"Since you're _both_ Gryffindor prefects, maybe you could look the other way, get what I'm saying?" says James cockily, and I elbow him hard in his stomach. My elbow is met by perfectly toned muscle, and I try not to gape foolishly.

"We'll be going inside now, sorry," I say in a hurry before Prefect Evans can blow her top, standing up as Remus physically pulls James up.

"Please don't reduce house points, I don't want to lose to Slytherin," I plead with Lily, as she marches alongside me to the portrait door.

"You've been on what, one date with him, and you're already breaking curfew. He's not a good influence," she hisses in my ear, not wanting the other two to hear what she's saying. They're walking in front of us.

"Maybe I can be a positive influence on him?" I squeak, and in the faint torchlight, she glares at me. The girl has such pretty eyes. It's not fair that she has such wonderful hair _and_ such a unique eye colour. Seriously though, I'm relieved. This means she only heard that last line.

We're at the door now, and ignoring James who is holding the door open like the gentleman he is not, I turn around to appease the other witch.

"Go to sleep, Sarah," Lily says in that strict tone of hers, before pushing me backwards into the Gryffindor tower. She's obviously a lot stronger than she looks.

James follows in behind me and shuts the door on an annoyed Lily, before laughing noiselessly.

"That was a close call," I say. I swear my heart's still beating furiously.

James reaches out and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. That's when I realise how close we're standing. It's really close, like _really really_ close.

"Some of your hair is orange," he says, and I'm too busy enjoying how warm his breath feels against the side of my mouth.

"What?"

"Oh my God! Are you going to kiss?" comes a raucous voice from behind, and I groan as I turn around.

Marlene, Alice, Sirius, Peter, Frank, Fabian and Gideon are sitting together in a group. It's the oddest group ever; I don't think I've ever seen all these various people sitting together on the same side of the room, let alone around the same table. And not to mention, they're all staring at us.

"They can't kiss now, now that you've ruined the moment, you dummy," chastises Alice, as Sirius smirks at the two of us suggestively.

"Are you guys playing Exploding Snap? Deal us in!" cries James enthusiastically, grabbing my hand as he rushes past me.

I try not to close my eyes and sink into the ground when Marlene waggles her eyebrows at James holding my hand.

Alice and Marlene are the lousiest of friends.

* * *

;;

* * *

"So what did you and James do tonight?" asks Alice from her bed.

I stare at the roof of my four-poster, keeping quiet. I'd been second-guessing my choice to become an Auror when Alice had spoken. Some days, I feel I'm not talented enough to become a Hit Wizard, let alone an Auror.

"Yeah, what _were_ you doing?" chimes in Marlene faithfully (or unfaithfully, depending on how you're looking at it) from her bed on Alice's other side.

"What took you so long with Gideon, Marls?"

"You mean Fabian, Rah," says Alice.

"No, I mean Gideon, the Prewett twin with a pierced ear, alright?" I say, as Marlene fakes sleeping by snoring. How old does she think Alice and I are? Five?

"Marlene, tell me or I'll cast _Aguamenti_ on you!" screeches Alice, and Marlene's 'snores' stop all of a sudden.

"I'll tell you how good James' kisses are if you tell us what that note said," I offer. My grandparents were Slytherins; it's natural that _some_ of their underhanded methods have been ingrained into my blood. It's basically genetics.

"And I can tell you how Frank offered to help me with our Charms project," chips in Alice. I roll my eyes, and try not to laugh when Marlene speaks up in an alarmed voice.

"I'll tell you if Sarah tells us about James and you keep quiet about Frank. Deal?"

"Deal!" I say, smothering my giggles as Alice grunts something which sounds more like 'bitch' than 'deal'.

"Gideon found this poem, a love poem, in his dormroom addressed to me. He thought I'd like to know not to give up hope, you know?"

"Oooh," squeals Alice, as I grin broadly. Love poems? Definitely Fabian's going to ask her out soon, right? I'm _so_ excited!

"That's fantastic!" I exclaim. I'm genuinely thrilled for Marlene. I hope her persistence pays off.

"Now you, Sarah. How was the _kiiisss_?"

"There's nothing to tell because nothing happened."

"What!" they both say at the same time.

Something, presumably a pillow, thuds onto the floor between my bed and Alice's.

"That's lousy aim, Marly," says Alice.

"I'm sorry if my aim is bad. I can't get over the fact that my best friend played me like a Slytherin. I'm heartbroken," she proclaims melodramatically. In case you haven't figured it out yet, Marlene is the queen of melodrama.

"Oh shut up, you idiot. But if it gladdens your poor broken heart, James offered me his owl to send my letter to the 'rents and apparently, Loki likes me a lot."

"That's perfect! The way to any wizard's heart is by gaining the approval of his pet first, his wand next, and last, his parents. It's two out of three for me, for now," she says cheerily.

How can anyone be so bright at twelve in the night? I'm literally like a zombie at this time of the night. Actually, scratch that. I'm like a zombie most of the day, regardless of the time.

"Uggh, I hope you're talking about Frank's actual wand made of wood, used for hexing people and not his _other_ wand," says Marlene in a thoroughly disgusted voice.

What she's said produces some horrifying mental images in my head. Frank Longbottom, Hogwarts Head Boy and his morning wood. Can I just take a moment to say... YUCK!

"You're not allowed to talk about my boyfriend's wand!" protests Alice, as Marlene makes retching noises.

"I'm going to sleep," I announce, casting the only silencing spell I know around my bed, before keeping my wand under the pillow. Over the past week, I've gotten used to my new wand alarm – I'd found out from a Ravenclaw I occasionally chat with that I'd been stressing on some syllable wrongly, thus causing the ear-shattering signal. Now, the loudness is just fine.

As I turn in my bed to pull the curtains properly, I notice that Lily's bed is unoccupied. She possibly couldn't still be patrolling, right? Maybe she's gone to see Thicke who's still in the hospital wing.

I push aside all my thoughts of the Muggleborn witch and try to sleep, while trying to come up with a fresh excuse to avoid going to Slughorn's next Slug Club meeting, which is on Sunday.

As usual, my mind can't concentrate on this one thing, and drifts to what Alice had said earlier, about earning approval. I suppose what she said makes sense. First, the approval of one's familiar would indicate that the two people have similar or at least complementary characteristics. The approval from one's wand (made of actual wood, used for spell casting) would indicate compatible magical signatures. And lastly, I suppose parental approval would be lovely.

But as you can see from my parents' case, one doesn't necessarily need parental approval. Not that I'm saying it's not needed, it's just that even if the parents are sticks in the mud, the couple shouldn't give up on their love, provided the love they have is genuine and strong, and the points raised by the parents are all stupid and unfounded.

I guess I'm a little bitter, after all, seeing as I don't have grandparents on either side of my family. My dad's dad died when my dad was in his Fifth Year, and my dad's mum died when I was two. On my mother's side, well, both of them are still very much alive, but I've never spoken to them.

My mum's mum sends me five Galleons every birthday, without fail. I think she misses my mum. I know for a fact that my mum misses her mum terribly, and I sometimes wonder if my mum's mum ever wanted to see my mum blasted off the family tree.

I fall asleep dreaming of a tall brunette witch forcing Galleons into my hand, and chasing me every time I try to leave her. And then the woman turns into Bellatrix, laughing at what a poor Rosier I am.

Somewhere in the middle of her taunts, Marlene sings love songs into Bellatrix's ears, making her melt into a pool of water. And after that, I sleep easy, without any other nightmare.

* * *

;;

* * *

 **End Note:**

ADHD stands for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. I don't think a witch with a primarily magical upbringing would know what the letters stand for, even if she's very close to her Muggle cousin.

 **Review Responses:**

Guest: To be honest, I can't wait to see how it plays out too. Thanks! :)

Guest: I know a month is way too long to wait, but seeing how infrequent I am with other stories, I think this is for the best. :) Thanks! :*

Bristol: Hehe, I feel like you read my mind. That's one possibility I've been considering for quite some time - I started writing this story ages ago, so I'm very VERY pleased that you thought of that. And I promise, friendship is never off the table. :) Thank you so much for reviewing! :)

Guest: Your review gave me that little nudge I needed. I'm essentially a pretty lazy person. So thanks, and here's your update! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**So far:**

James is oh-so-slowly becoming better at not making Lily mad, but the progress is just way too slow for any noticeable difference. But hey, two steps forward and one step backward means there's still a net movement of one step in the forward direction, right? Lily anyway still doesn't approve of 'Sarah and James' as a thing, so chances are, even if the change is monumental, she would ignore it.

Also, when did Marlene and Gideon become best friends? More importantly, Alice and Frank need to stop being so cloyingly sweet.

* * *

 **PLAYING PRETEND**

 _CHAPTER 5_

* * *

 _September 24th, 1976_

* * *

I try not to fall asleep, leaning against a pot of magically enhanced soil, as Professor Sprout continues her recap of her previous lesson on the magical properties of the plant aloe vera, and how to properly care for them. This class, we'll be studying about poinsettia and it's leaves.

It's Friday, and I still haven't found a reasonable excuse to give to Professor Slughorn. It's a slippery slope – say yes once, and it's a commitment for life. Slughorn thinks of himself as the reason for my existence – he's told me on numerous occasions that it's because of him that my parents met.

But you know the truth. _That_ isn't how my parents met. Sure, Sluggy made them sit next to each other, but that doesn't mean he's Cupid. And I'd do anything to not go to his monthly meetings.

"Sarah!" Alice admonishes me loudly, nudging me in the ribs, prompting me to wake up from my temporary nap.

"What?"

"I told you to give me the Hippogriff dung," she apparently repeats, her eyes narrowed.

Alice is the worst person to partner with during Herbology. She's so passionate about learning the subject that if you don't pay attention all the time, she'll have your head for lunch. But I partner with Alice because most plants I touch seem to die, and she's instrumental in helping me pass the subject, at least the practical part.

Having worked with my mother at her shop over the years, and having been tutored in Potions by her, I'm pretty thorough with the practical applications of different plants, so I'm at least not useless at the theory part.

I blink and look around, and find no form of excreta anywhere on our work table in Greenhouse No. 5.

'It's not here," I tell her, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Then go outside and get me some, you lazy bum," she scolds me and prods me with the muddy stick she's using to poke holes in the soil.

I pick up the small manure bucket and shuffle outside, wiping my face with the back of my glove. It gets so damn humid inside the greenhouses, that I periodically apply cooling charms to myself, so that I don't explode from the heat.

Do you know how it feels when you're slowly baked alive? That's how it feels after every Herbology class, even if I've used a cooling charm.

I round the corner and make my way to the shed between Greenhouse No. 5 and 6, when I stop because of what I see.

Right by the sack of Hippogriff manure, Remus and Lily are standing, oblivious of their surroundings. Remus raises his hand carefully, and I watch with bated breath.

"There's dirt on your cheek, Lils," he says, rubbing her cheek gently. His hand lingers for a moment too long, before he drops his arm to his side.

Lily blushes red.

I step away as quietly as possible, backtracking a little, before stomping forward noisily. It feels like I'd almost intruded on something private, and I don't want them to feel awkward or embarrassed.

This time, when I turn the corner, Lily is leaning against the shed, and Remus is bending and filling two buckets with manure.

"Hi Sarah!" Lily greets, and I smile back at her, trying not to grimace, as I greet her as well.

"Could you fill mine too?" I ask Remus, holding out the bucket to him.

"Sure," he grunts, as he takes the bucket and starts filling it with manure. It's odd, how a sack of manure doesn't stink in the least, but I guess that's the perk of being magical – periodically apply a freshening charm on even a sack of shit, and it won't stink.

"You have muddy streaks on your face. Here, let me get it for you," Lily says, and she rubs at my face with a pristine handkerchief she's fished out of her pocket.

And just like that, I feel silly. Remus and Lily are friends, and friends tell when there's mud on the other's face. Lily is my friend, and she's doing the same for me. I'm just imagining things.

In short, I'm a very presumptuous person who jumps to conclusions, and I need to learn to think twice before my hyperactive imagination puts two and two together to make seven.

When I go back to Greenhouse No. 5, I find that I'm very much awake.

* * *

;;

* * *

I glare at the letter I've gotten from my mother.

.

 _'Sarah sweetums,_

 _Berlin was absolutely lovely! Healer Bergmann's conference was groundbreaking. Are you sure you don't want to become a healer or a medicinal potioneer? You know, if you attend one of these, I think you'll change your mind._

 _And since I know this is what you actually want to know, here it is. I've bought you two pounds of those fried (unhealthy) almonds you like so much. But here's the catch. You don't get it unless you attend Slughorn's Sunday lunch. Go for it, and I'll send you some. Otherwise, I'll just give this to Paula, who happens to like them as well._

 _Slughorn keeps sending us letters, darling, asking us why you always say no. I'm tired of lying continuously. And next July, when he holds his alumni meet, you're coming as well. It's embarrassing coming up with weird excuses every time._

 _Love,_

 _Mummy'_

.

Firstly, she knows I hate it when she signs off as 'Mummy'. What am I? Six?

Secondly, seriously? Is she holding my beloved _gebrannte mandeln_ hostage? That's just so fucking cheap. Just because her parents were Slytherins doesn't give her the right to behave this way!

And thirdly, of all things she could ask me to do, she wants me to attend Sluggy's boring lunch? Could someone please kill me now, so that I won't have to go through a lunch where Slughorn fawns over students with either great potential or rich parents or influential relatives?

How is it she's forgotten that I always attend Slughorn's Christmas parties? From First Year to Fourth, I attended the Christmas Lunch Party he threw annually a week before Christmas, and last year, seeing as I'd become a Fifth Year, I'd been invited to his annual Christmas Dinner Party, which I attended as well.

So if I attend this lunch, does this mean I can skip his Christmas party? But I don't think I'll do that – the Christmas parties have the best food, and I have a rather refined palette. I kid – I eat almost anything edible that happens to be delicious.

But honestly speaking, well played, Sluggy. I can finally see how and why he was put in Slytherin.

So I grumpily tear out a piece of parchment from the Potions essay I was working on when I received the letter to compose a short message. Don't look so surprised – I've occasionally been known to do my homework during my lunch hour, especially if the assignment is due in two periods.

My message is short, succinct, and hopefully conveys how overjoyed I am at the prospect of my social engagement for Sunday.

 _'You win, mum.'_

* * *

;;

* * *

"Look James! Your girl's here to watch you play!" yells Sirius, and I resist the urge to bang my head onto the wooden bench I'm sitting on.

Where am I, you ask? Well, I'm with Alice, and we're both at the Quidditch field, sitting in the Gryffindor bleachers, encouraging Marlene to Chase. That new DADA teacher had given Marly a 'D' yesterday for her essay, and the poor girl is still down in the dumps because of it.

Anyway, that's why I'm here. And though Marlene knows that, she glares at James, then Sirius, and then me. James throws me a smile, before yelling at Adele Dunbar to pay attention to the Quaffle they're practising with.

"So when are you and James next going on a date?" asks Alice, sucking on a bull's-eye.

"Dunno," I answer nonchalantly.

"It's been seven days already," she says, looking at me intently.

"Seven days since what?"

"Since you went out on a first date. Social convention dictates that he ask you out again three days later – which means he should have asked you on _Tuesday_ , Sarah! And since he hasn't asked you, _you're_ the one who needs to make a move," she says in a reprimanding voice.

"There are no _rules_ about when someone should ask the other person out. Those are just vague guidelines," I tell her.

"No!" she exclaims vehemently, before continuing, "Ask too soon and it sounds desperate. Ask more than a week late, and it looks like you've been having second thoughts. Three days is the perfect time. And it's a _rule_."

"And what if we decided to go out once again right during the first date?" I ask her cheekily, and her response is instantaneous. She punches me in the arm.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?!"

"I did tell you," I remind her.

"But you said you were going to just 'hang out' more! Why didn't you tell me that it's another _date_?" she screeches.

"Because I knew you'd react this way," I mutter.

Thankfully, whatever she's about to say is cut off, because a Quaffle comes hurtling towards us, and misses us be mere millimetres. And seconds later, Dunbar is in front of us, apologising profusely.

What surprises me completely is that Marlene flies up to the bleachers and starts yelling at that Fifth Year. And it's not constructive criticism or anything of that sort. It's all out, nasty yelling, which she stops (partially) only when Sirius and Gideon fly up to us and pull her away. She's still glaring filthily at Dunbar.

"Practice isn't normally like this, I swear," James says, shooting us an apologetic look before flying off after his other players.

Let's just say I'm glad I brought a book to read with me.

* * *

;;

* * *

Lily is thrilled that I'll be joining her for a Slug Club meeting. She's ecstatic, even.

"I'm _so_ glad I'll be having you for company! Do you know how boring it is when there are very few people one can talk to? I really hope he places you next to me for lunch," she chatters away, as we're walking down to the chamber off the dungeons where Sluggy hosts his meetings.

"Isn't that the whole point of these meetings? To meet new people?" I ask her.

"People are not always so welcoming," she says, her eyes sad, and I understand what it's about – there are Pureblood supremacists who attend these meetings. _Of course_ , Sluggy goes for the rich snobby types.

"Has anyone ever said anything about your origin?" I ask her, my tone serious. We're outside the room now, but I've put my hand on her shoulder to pause her from opening the door.

"It's never direct," she sighs unhappily, before opening the door. The pleasant notes of the Les Fées' newest song greets us, and taking a deep breath, I step in.

I'm relieved to see that most Purebloods and Halfbloods are wearing semiformal robes, just like me. Muggleborns like Lily, on the other hand, are wearing skirts or formal trousers. I'd had such a hard time figuring out my wardrobe this morning, I swear.

It looks like it's only the Sixth Years, and people are walking around indulging in polite conversation, holding Butterbeers in their hands. Damn, had I known Sluggy was giving free Butterbeers once a month, I'd have been here sooner!

I turn around to comment to Lily on how awesome free drinks are, but I find her immersed in conversation with a Ravenclaw – so much for not having company. So instead, I directly head to the table where a house-elf is handing out tall glasses of Butterbeer. Trying not to look greedy, I slowly take one from the table.

"Sarah!"

I almost drop the glass, but the house-elf catches it with magic, and I thank him, causing him to bow deeply – house-elves and their weird respect for wizards and witches freaks me out, in general.

"James," I say, as I turn to regard him. I'm surprised he's here. Sure, I've seen him at the Christmas parties before, but I never knew he attended these monthly meetings.

"It's a pleasant surprise to see you here," he says, smiling.

"I could say the same," I reply, as I take a sip of my drink.

"I always attend these meetings," he says, as he suavely picks up a glass for himself, before leading me away from the table, towards a quieter corner.

"Why?" I ask him.

"Why what?"

"Why do you attend these meetings?"

"Because Lily always attends these, and she looks so pretty in those Muggle clothes of hers," he says, and I try not to groan, but in vain.

"Oh, James! Really?"

When he shrugs but doesn't say anything in return, I shake my head and say, "You need to develop a healthier attitude about it."

"Oh?" he asks, looking slightly confused.

"Let's make this practical lesson number two, okay? Let's just observe Lily from here," I say, moving to lean back on the wall. James copies my stance, only that he bends his right knee, so that he's resting his right foot on the wall as well.

We probably look like one of those 'cool' kids in those American Muggle movies that David loves to watch. Only that instead of doing nothing, we're creepily stalking our classmate.

"Didn't you say creepily stalking wasn't the way to get Lily?" James asks me after a while, echoing my thoughts.

"Fair point," I tell him, grabbing him by the hand. I have an idea – to get him to talk to Lily, without the conversation ending in utter disaster. So I smartly place his glass and mine onto the tray of a house-elf passing by us, and start pulling at his arm till he moves.

"Wait, where are we going?" he asks, slightly panicked, as it becomes obvious that I'm leading him straight to Lily. He stops moving, and I find that regardless of how much strength I use, I can't make him budge.

"I'm going to guide you through having a normal conversation with her. One where you don't ask her out or insult her friends, and one where she doesn't yell at you or insult your friends, all right?"

"What! What on earth will I say! I can't do this!" he protests.

"Listen," I tell him, planting both my hands on his shoulders. It's awkward because he's taller, but I do it anyway. "I'm going to be there, choosing a topic that _both_ of you are comfortable with, so that you don't make an arse of yourself, and can show her just how normal and nice you are. Lily's never seen a normal you, and she's not going to know what she's turned down, until you demonstrate to her how capable you are of being sweet and friendly _and_ intelligent."

"Okay," he says quietly, his hazel eyes looking miserable, that I reach out and mess his hair, till a look of amusement replaces his previous look.

"What was that for?" he asks, smiling a little, and I grin at him as I reply.

"This isn't Felix Felicis, remember."

He pushes his glasses upwards and smiles at me.

* * *

;;

* * *

This was a bad idea.

Okay, not really, because initially, it had been going oh-so- _well_!

Lily had entered into the conversation a little warily, as I started a discussion about Muggle versus wizarding bands. It had been awkward here and there, but overall, it had been going well – James had even managed to make Lily laugh once – the boy really did have a wicked sense of humour.

And then the conversation had shifted from weird live onstage performances to Metamorphmagi – my cousin's daughter is one, by the way – to long lasting transfigurations to now this: Gamp's Elemental Law of Tranfiguration.

"I'm telling you, Gamp was wrong about that law. It's outdated," argues James, moving his hands a little too much for emphasis.

"And just because you say so, it's correct? Then why can't you turn a rock into a tea-cake? Tell me."

"We just don't know the spell yet. Transfiguration is more than about changing appearances. It's about rearranging parts of the whole, and at the base level, the building blocks are the same – what do you Muggles call it? – ah, yes, atoms and electrons. The base material for all matter is the same, the variation in electron numbers gives you different atoms, and change in arrangement of these atoms gives you different structures. So a stone _can_ be changed into a cake!"

I listen quietly, as metaphorical steam comes out of Lily's ears. I'm a bit surprised that James knows what atoms are – it's a part of Muggle science, that's all I know. I'd attended Muggle school before attending Hogwarts, and I knew that atoms and molecules made up everything on earth, but for James to know that? Wow.

"If Transfiguration is not just about changing appearances, Potter, why doesn't one stitch on a button which they've Transfigured from a snail? It's because it's still a snail, which just looks like a button. So if you eat a tea-cake which looks like a rock, you're still eating a rock."

"That's where you're wrong. That button, when it looks like a button, _is_ a button. We don't stitch it on because it could revert to being a snail at any moment. Transfiguration needs energy and extra matter, and that's why we don't use transfigured snails on our shirts. All systems have a tendency to try and reach their most stable state, and when the energy we provide as witches and wizards no longer keeps the button stable, as a button, it is prone to changing back into a snail. That's why we don't stitch it on."

I'm listening to the whole thing with great interest, and I'm so awed by James that I can't begin to explain how amazing it is just to stand there and hear him explain things.

"But that's not what we're talking about, we're talking about why Gamp is wrong. Let's suppose that one can turn a rock into a cake. And let's say someone eats that cake. The human body absorbs nutrients from everything we eat – even from a cake. So the nutrients are in the blood, and say the witch runs out of energy – there'll be pieces of rock running in her blood. She'll die," finishes Lily triumphantly.

"You just answered your own question. That's why people don't transfigure things into other things which are going to be inhaled or digested. It doesn't mean it's impossible. Take Aguamenti for example-"

Lily cuts him off. "Aguamenti isn't Transfiguration, it's Charms."

Finally something that I can answer!

"Aguamenti is actually a Transfiguration spell. It turns water vapour into liquid water. It doesn't require much effort because we aren't changing the structure, we're only changing the form. It uses water molecules in the air to create the water. So the spell won't work in a desert or a generally dry area," I say.

"She's right, you know?" James says, putting an arm around my shoulder for absolutely no reason.

"I'll do my research and get back to you on this," Lily says snootily, and it's apparent that her ego has been hurt. I cringe inwardly, knowing that she's going to be cold towards me for the next few Charms classes, as she turns and strides away.

It's not my fault I know about Aguamenti – it had been a crossword clue last year. Alice had been doing the crossword, as usual, and the clue had been, 'Aguamenti spell type (15)'. We'd even tried the Latin word for Charms, but that had come only to ten letters.

Imagine our surprise when we found out the next day that the answer was 'Transfiguration'. Alice, being Alice, had dragged us to the library to do research, and that's how I'd learned trivia about a simple spell.

Anyway, back to the situation at hand.

"Merlin, she's so hot when she's riled up," James says, and I shrug his arm off myself and turn to look at him in amusement.

"You did not seriously just say that!"

"I just did," he chuckles. "By the way, how do you know about Aguamenti?"

"Random trivia one picks up over life," I say, and we're both just grinning at each other, when Sluggy walks up to us.

I try not to groan.

"Sarah Davies, such a pleasure to finally see you here, my child," he booms, and I cringe inwardly.

"Hello, Professor," I greet him, wanting to run away. Far away. Far, far away.

"I was ever so pleased when your mother owled me to say you'd be coming. She also sent me some Blue Pixie dust, being the darling that she is. Brilliant woman," he says, smiling genially, as he nods his head at James.

"How is your Quidditch training going, Mr Potter?"

"Very well, sir. We'll beat Slytherin and win the House Cup this year, if everything goes well," he says cockily, and I try not to smile too much. The confident self he portrays right now is such a contrast to how he was behaving earlier, when I was trying to get him to talk to Lily.

"We'll see, we'll see. It's always lovely to see such a self-sure young man," he chuckles, and I smile ever so slightly at that.

"It's lovely to see you both here, and Sarah? I hope you'll come around more often," he says mock sternly.

I shrug noncommittally, a fake smile plastered on my face.

"I know just the person for you sit next to, you'll enjoy it very much, eh?" he waggles his bushy eyebrows, winking at me, before going away to bother someone else.

"What did he mean by that?" asks James, as I glare at Horace Slughorn with my best death-glare.

"It's nothing."

* * *

;;

* * *

"So, I heard a very interesting rumour today," says Marlene, as a form of greeting.

I'm busy cleaning my blue peep-toe heels, the ones I wore today, so that I can keep them inside my wardrobe.

"What about?"

"That you went to Slughorn's meeting to ensure James didn't ask Lily out," Marly says, her voice slightly high.

"What! Of course not, you know my mum forced me to go!"

"That's what I told Ava," she says, and I roll my eyes. Ava is Marlene's gossipmonger cousin who somehow is in Ravenclaw. I would have thought Slytherin more well suited for her nastiness.

"Ava's probably bitter she didn't score an invite to Sluggy's Club," I say, to which Marlene scoffs.

"Or maybe she's bitter that she hasn't landed James," she says, and I look from my shoes with my eyebrows raised. This is new information.

Suddenly it makes sense why Ava's always come to Gryffindor Quidditch matches, even the ones Ravenclaw wasn't playing, and why she drops by the Gryffindor table in the mornings. It looks like it's not for her dearest cousin.

"Curiouser and curiouser," I say, smirking.

This is a nugget of gold, and I know, I simply _know_ that I'll be using it someday. I might be in Gryffindor, the house of the noble, but I'm also a vicious bitch when something riles me up.

Seeing as Ava is one of the few people who _can_ rile me up, I'm pretty sure I'll be using this piece of information to get back at her.

Maybe not today, but someday.

* * *

;;

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

Guest: I have no intention of killing Sarah, so you can continue reading in peace. :) Thank you for your review. :)

Bristol: It's so typical of James, isn't it? *grins broadly* It's the most perfect name, though. Thanks for reviewing, as always. It means a lot to me. :)

* * *

 **AN:**

My laptop went in for a completely unscheduled system update, and I lost quite a bit of my open work, including future chapters of this story, even though it was saved. I'm not sure if I can deliver another chapter by the first week of November, because right now, I want to focus my attention on cataloguing all that I've lost and trying to re-write most of the older unpublished works which aren't quite as fresh in my memory.

You can be a hundred percent sure that there will be a new chapter by December 5th, 2016.

As always, reviews are welcomed with open arms.

Thanks for your support, and thank you for reading this story. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning:**

This is so perfunctory, but I'm assuming that the readers of this story are not of such delicate sensibilities that the cussing that occurs in this chapter would offend them. But you never know with the invisible moderators who lurk around, so here's a warning, loud and clear.

* * *

 **So far:**

James, with gentle prodding from Sarah, has his first real conversation with Lily – one which doesn't end in _complete_ disaster – which is a real accomplishment in Sarah's eyes. (She also thinks her sitting through one of Sluggy's lunches is a real accomplishment, but no one seems to agree with her.)

On the other hand, the rest of Hogwarts seems to be forming the impression that James and Sarah are an item to stay for a while, as evidenced by Marlene's nosy cousin's not-so-gently enquiring. Sarah has many words to describe Ava McKinnon, and her favourite adjective to use regarding Ava is one that rhymes with witch, hitch, pitch, ditch, etc.

Oh, wait, when did Ava start fancying James? _What?_

* * *

 **PLAYING PRETEND**

CHAPTER 6

* * *

 _September 28th, 1976_

* * *

"So how do you think I'm doing?" asks James, running a hand through his hair. I'd had reason to believe that that was his nervous tell, but now, I'm not that sure.

"How you're doing in what?" I deflect, as I swing my legs up and down. We're sitting on the parapet wall of one of the arched windows on the ground floor, and I like how my red trainers look in the moonlight.

"Sarah," James whines, and I turn to smirk at him. It's pretty easy to get James worked up by pretending to be oblivious – something I've realised over the past couple of weeks.

"Alright, fine. I think you've made progress," I tell him.

"Really?" he asks, surprised, and there's so much hope shining in his eyes that I want to lean over and kiss him.

Actually, disregard that. I think Marlene and Alice have penetrated my subconscious with their not-so-witty remarks and hints.

"Yeah," I say, trying to control my blush at my earlier thought. It's not so much the act of kissing – it's the very fact that that thought's struck me.

James is still looking at me with that expression, so I continue. "Ever since the weekend, Lily hasn't excused herself from a conversation when you join in – that counts as progress."

"True," he says, stroking his chin, and I imagine that he's stroking a nonexistent beard.

"I thought you'd be more excited by that?" I prompt.

"I _am_ ," he says, turning around to look right into my eyes. The look on his face, though thoughtful, is serious. "It's just – I don't know– I should be thanking you, but somehow a mere thank you would feel meaningless, you know?"

This is it, Sarah! This is the moment when you can ask him to help you with Transfiguration!

I only got an 'A' this week in a surprise test McG truly surprised us (me) with, but being the Gryffindor I am, I ignore that voice in my head, and instead tell him, "That's what friends are for."

He smiles at me so cutely that there's this dimple in his cheek. He's absolutely adorable.

"You know what I think you should do next?"

"What?"

"I propose you next butter up Janice Thicke. It's always important to get the friends of the person you're dating on your side. Thicke is Lily's best friend, so when you get together with Lily, it'll help."

"Huh," he says, his face going through a variety of expressions before settling on a grim smile.

"I like it," he says firmly, before continuing. "But what do I talk about?"

"You have a match against Ravenclaw this Saturday, right?" I ask. The question's almost rhetorical, because the match and James' unreasonable training schedule are all that Marly can talk about at the moment.

"Right," he answers, flexing the muscles in his shoulders. I don't roll my eyes, though I want to, so badly.

"Well, I know for a fact from what Frank told Alice that Janice likes to come up with Quidditch plays. Maybe you can ask her to look over some plays you've planned, talk general Quidditch? And don't do this in front of Lily," I finish with a warning.

"Wait, Thicke likes talking Quidditch?" asks James, and I shrug. I'm offering him second-hand information, so it's not like I really know anything.

" _Oh_ ," he says, and it's that inflection he gives the syllable that makes me perk up my antenna.

"What ' _oh_ '?" I ask him, my eyes narrowing slightly of their volition.

"That explains why I saw Janice and Fabian arguing very heatedly in the locker rooms yesterday."

"Oh?" I say, so he rushes to explain himself better.

"The thing about Fabian Prewett is that he's pretty set in his views about Quidditch. Like what's an ethical move, what isn't. He's just not innovative enough. Gideon, on the other hand, is a real star. He's smart, unorthodox, and loves looking for loopholes. Gideon–" he lowers his voice conspiratorially, so I lean in to hear better. "–was meant to be captain this year. That's what McGonagall wanted. But apparently, Dumbledore argued, said that it would strain brotherly relations if one twin was chosen over the other."

I guess he sees that both my eyebrows have shot up, because he chuckles.

"Who told you that?" I ask, curious. It's best I know everything about Fabian, of course. If Marlene's long-term plan works out, then Prewett will be my brother-in-law, of sorts.

"My uncle. He's close to Dumbledore. He trained under him in alchemy," James replies, and I nod, pleasantly surprised.

I'm about to ask about alchemy, when I a tiny thing that James had mentioned moments before makes me sit up.

"Why was Janice Thicke in the locker rooms?" I ask, doubly curious.

"I have no clue, honestly. She had some parchment scrolls in her hands. That's why when you said she's a Quidditch strategist, I thought it could be that..." he peters off.

I nod my head, distracted.

* * *

;;

* * *

"I suppose you'll be attending the Quidditch match tomorrow," says Lily to me, as we take a break from practising, ironically enough, the Aguamenti spell.

"Of course," I say pleasantly glad that Lily's finally talking to me again. After Sunday's intellectual argument which I'd butted myself into thoughtlessly, Lily had been giving me the cold shoulder.

"All for Potter, I suppose," she says snidely, and now, I'm actually offended.

"Marlene's on the team too, you know? I always attend the matches. I've never missed a single one before," I tell her equally coldly. "James told me he might use one of Thicke's plays. Maybe you should come as well, to see how it goes."

"Oh. Right. Sorry," she says, her face turning pink.

She talks a lot more freely with me after that, but my good humour hasn't been restored. I'm still really annoyed.

When Sirius corners me outside the classroom and loudly asks, "Hey, will you attend tomorrow's match, seeing as you and James are a thing?" I reply equally loudly, "Yes! Anything to support James!"

It's with a weird sense of satisfaction that I see Lily turn pink, look down, and hurry away.

Of course, Marlene ruins the moment by glaring at me for what I've said, and that restores my mood. I'm smiling again before we even reach Greenhouse No. 5, as I try to ruffle Marlene's hair just to annoy her further.

* * *

;;

* * *

October has officially started, as evidenced by how chilly it is at the moment. And up here in the Quidditch stands, it's colder than usual.

And what's more annoying than the chilly wind which persistently tries to unwrap my scarf is Ava McKinnon, annoying the fuck out of me. She shouldn't even be sitting here – she should be at the other stand, where people are wearing blue and bronze.

"Do you feel insecure, knowing that James will probably stop dating you if Lily asks him out?" asks Ava in that shrill voice of hers, just as Sirius saves the Quaffle rather spectacularly. I ignore her and cheer with the rest of the Gryffindors.

"Shouldn't you be elsewhere, midget?" asks Alice, turning around in her seat. She's sitting between me and Frank up in the fourth row, while Ava's managed to insert herself between two Fourth Year boys who look very happy to have her sitting there.

Did I ever mention how the McKinnons are a family of unbelievably good looking people? You should have seen Ava's older brother, Aaron, who graduated three years back. I _might_ have had a teeny-tiny crush on him for a month or so.

Frank gives me an amused look over Alice's shoulder, as Ava turns her nose up at Ali.

"Does it bother you, Alice, knowing that I snogged Frank before you did?"

I can feel my jaw drop. A quick look at the Head Boy shows that his face is turning a horrid shade of crimson. Alice, on the other hand, has gone pale. Super pale. I'm no longer paying attention to the match.

"What. Did. You. Just. Say?" she asks menacingly, her voice almost a growl.

Ava looks smug, as she smirks.

"Why don't you ask dear Frankie here, who kisses better? Me or you?"

Alice stands up, and I stand up with her, just to restrain her, in case she decides to throttle Ava, even as the announcer announces that Gryffindor's new Seeker seems to have spotted the Snitch. I assume Frank has stood up to stop Alice as well, in case things get out of hand.

Three things happen at the same time, of which I notice only one. The other two, I notice only because people are first cheering, then yelling. A) Alice slaps Ava; B) Jonathan Finley catches the Snitch; and C) a stray Bludger hits Sirius.

But as I said, I notice only Alice slapping Ava.

If I'm to be really _really_ honest here, I didn't really make an effort to stop Ali.

The Gryffindors around me all stand are start cheering, and I join in on the cheering, even as Frank is holding a shaking Alice tightly against himself. I _am_ very loyal to my house, but at the moment, I'm cheering at how Ava's sitting down on her seat, looking shocked, clutching a hand to her cheek.

And then the tenor of the cheering changes, and I finally turn around to face the pitch, to see that there's a figure next to the hoops, lying on the sand. It takes me a moment to realise that it's Sirius.

"Oh God, that looks nasty," says one of the Fourth Years from somewhere behind me, and I can't but help agree.

All the players have flown down to the ground and they're standing in a circle around Sirius, and I'm wondering what I should do, when I see Remus and Peter run across the pitch – they must've climbed down at record speed.

Moments later, I can see James arguing with Madam Hooch and the Ravenclaw captain. It looks like James is yelling, so I lean out and grab the shoulder of the Third Year in front of me.

"What happened?"

"Oh, didn't you see? Just as Jon caught the Snitch, the Ravenclaw Beater, Johnson, sent a foul shot at Black. And now Potter's arguing that Ravenclaw be penalised. But the match is already over, so Ravenclaw can't be penalised. Look, they're taking Black to the hospital wing!" she squeaks excitedly, and I nod my head.

"We won, right?" I ask her, because Hooch seems to be talking with both captains very seriously.

"That's what Piques announced, but Madam Hooch hasn't announced it yet," she tells me, her eyes narrowing.

After five more minutes of complete angry yelling from the audience, nonchalant shrugs from the Ravenclaw captain, sagely nods from Hooch and wayward hand gestures from a furious James, Madam Hooch announces the result.

"Gryffindor wins."

As the cheers fill the stadium, Third Year I'm sort of holding hostage starts smiling coyly.

"What's wrong?" I ask her, because she's flushing like crazy. I think she needs medical help.

"Nothing's wrong. I knew my Jon could do it," she says breathily.

"Your Jon?" I ask her, with some trepidation.

"Yes, don't you know? He's my boyfriend," she tells proudly and I sit down promptly on my seat, my head light.

What is the world coming to? Thirteen year olds now have boyfriends? What the actual f –

"Do you think James would rather bang Sirius than you?" comes a snide voice from my left side, and without even turning, I push Ava away.

* * *

;;

* * *

I try to stifle a giggle, as there's a loud hiss and the picture is captured. People aren't supposed to be up to no good in the hospital wing, but this is what you get when you hang out with these four, I guess. Or rather, these three, seeing as Sirius is still busy sleeping.

James had managed to persuade Marlene and me into braiding pink ribbons into Sirius' hair, as he slept. And now, Peter is taking pictures from different angles. Remus wants to title the series 'Sleeping Beauty'. It's pretty funny.

I mean, I'd thought James would be really worried about Sirius, seeing as they're like Damon and Pythias, but apparently, James wants to get back at Sirius for saying something stupid, or something along those lines – I'll never understand how teenage boys work.

Normally, I would have left with the other Gryffindors some two hours back, but Peter had implied that being the girl James is dating, I need to be here for moral support. And being the supportive best friend that Marlene is, she'd volunteered to stay back as well.

And Alice? Probably off confronting Frank somewhere.

"So remind me, why are we doing this again?" asks Marly.

"It's called getting back, love," says James, sitting right next to me on Sirius' bed.

Let me set the scene: Sirius, the poor thing, sleeping peacefully on the pristine white hospital bed, with a pale blue coverlet; Marly and I, the two amoral friends, sitting on the bed on either side of the poor boy, taking a break from being hairdressers; and James, the Quidditch Captain, sitting next to me, right next to me, _so close to me_ , that his leg is flush against mine.

I eye how close he is to me, and I feel my face flush – I probably look like a tomato.

It doesn't help matters that he's now put an arm around me, around my waist in particular, and my face is frozen with the smile I had earlier. It feels awkwardly delicious – oh Merlin, am I even making sense?

If simply proximity makes me feel this way, how would a kiss feel? How would something more feel? I can feel my cheeks flaming – warmer than before.

Remus clears his throat noisily, and I turn around to catch him throw me a mischievous grin.

Whatever.

"He's going to get back at you as well, you know?" says Marlene, bringing my head out of that daze I'd thrown myself into.

"I'll be ready for it," James says confidently, leaning sideways and planting his head on my shoulder.

I sit still and try not to explode, and try not to think about all those hard pectoral muscles pressed agaisnt me.

* * *

;;

* * *

"Frank and I are taking a break," Alice says, dropping her head back onto her pillow. The three of us are sprawled on Ali's bed, thanks to an expansion charm.

"But wait, I don't get it. You said Ava and Frank kissed before he started dating you, right?" asks Marlene.

"Yeah, but it's time we took a step back and revisited our priorities."

Okay, what the fuck is Alice blathering on about? Honestly, I don't understand. Revisiting priorities, seriously?

"But–"

"No buts, Marlene," she says sternly.

"Ali, Frank didn't cheat on you. You get that, right?" I ask her slowly, as if I'm speaking to a two year old.

"It doesn't _matter_!" Alice screeches, in a manner typical of her.

"But it does. It's great that you guys are pausing your relationship or whatever, but you can't hold Frank accountable for whom he dated or just snogged before you."

"Yeah," chimes in Marlene. "You're being so unreasonable. I can't believe the fact that I'm even supporting that guy, but seriously, he hasn't done anything wrong."

"I don't care. And this topic is closed from further discussion," she says in an icy voice, and I rub my face into the pillow, trying to smell the faint jasmine scent further. Alice has the house elves clean her sheets in special salts her godmother imports from Turkey.

"Fine, so how did I do in today's match? Who's your favourite Chaser?" asks Marlene, changing the topic completely.

"You, of course, Marly darling. You're the most brilliant Quidditch player to ever grace the hallowed halls of Hogwarts," I coo exaggeratedly, earning an eye roll from Alice and a snort from Marlene.

"As long as you come to the matches for me but not that part-time boyfriend of yours," mutters Marlene almost too quickly for me to hear her.

"Part-time how?" I ask.

Let it be known that I have pretty sharp ears.

Alice sits up a little, resting her head on her palm, facing Marls and me sideways.

"It's just that, okay, look at it this way. Everyone knows how James used to ask Lily out every other minute, right? And he was so undeniably head over heels for her. And then all of a sudden, he just asks you out, without any preamble. I mean no one else even knew that he _liked_ you, right? _Liked_ you in that way, Rah."

Marlene pauses and takes a deep breath. Alice is now looking at Marlene with wide eyes, and in the fading torch light, Alice looks creepy.

"I think he's just using you to get over Lily," she says, her voice dead serious.

I open my mouth to say something, not necessarily to defend myself because I don't want to lie, but to generally misdirect her, but Alice beats me to the punch.

"You're just bitter over Gideon not trying to woo you," Ali says snippily, her nose turned up in that way that only Purebloods can, especially those of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

It takes a moment for my brain to catch up with what Alice has just said, because I'm too busy secretly celebrating over how without my having to lie to them, the conversation has taken a turn for the different.

"You mean Fabian, right?" Marlene asks slowly, enunciating every word.

"That's what I said," Alice says.

It's not what Alice said, but I'm not going to argue.

"It isn't, it really isn't," Marlene repeats her ears turning red as she glares at the other girl. I'm pretty much trying to turn invisible and camouflage with the displaced coverlet.

"You're a bitch in heat," Ali says calmly, as though she's talking about the weather.

"And you're a thoroughly fucked cunt who doesn't know her arse from her tits," replies Marlene just as calmly, as though someone has just asked her how many sugar cubes she has with her tea.

If my mother were here, she'd probably have rinsed both their mouths with Qwikeasy Kitchen Cleaner, and then Obliviated me or something. I think the orthodox Purebloods, like the Rosiers, look down upon swearing and cussing and such. I guess you can take the witch out of the Pureblood society, but not the Pureblood society out of the witch. Unless, of course, you're Alice on PMS.

Anyway, when I zone back into the conversation, Alice is saying, "You slither in into Slytherin's bed just to give his snake some head," with a maniacal grin on her face.

The grin on Marlene's face is just as maniacal.

"You lick Merlin's soppy, saggy, hairy balls as a hobby."

I wrinkle my nose and quietly roll off the bed to leave the dorms, so that those two can make up in the weird way they do.

I sometimes feel I'm the only sane person around.

* * *

;;

* * *

I'm about to knock on the door which has the number 6 painted on it, when it opens and I find myself face-to-face with a shirtless James.

"Er..."

My mind goes blank, and I gape at him, as he grins at me. His grin isn't his usual charming little grin which makes his cheek dimple so adorably – this is a straight out sexy smirk worn only by a guy who knows he looks fan-fucking-tastic without a shirt on.

"Why don't you come in?" he asks, taking me by the elbow and pulling me in. Somewhere in between my feeling the warmth of his hand and my feeling the warmth of his chest as I collide with him, I remember to shut my mouth.

I take a step back and observe him looking at me with this mildly curious expression on his face, and all I want to say is lalalalalala.

However, some small rational part of my brain which hasn't been overrun by female hormones makes its presence known when I say, "Wear a shirt."

"What?"

I clear my throat and try speaking louder this time.

"Could you please wear a shirt?"

By now, I'm positive my face looks like Hades' pit of fire.

"Looks like the infallible Davies princess has finally fallen," he says, winking, as he walks backward to his bed and pulls a Gryffindor Quidditch tee from it.

"Wait, what do you mean infallible princess?" I ask, my rationality restored as James finally is fully clothed.

"Guys talk, you know, about witches and stuff like that, and I believe it was Sirius who called you an infallible princess."

"Why?" I ask bewildered, as I sit on the nearest bed that's made. The dorm is like a typical boys' dorm. It's horribly messy but there's this charm to it – the posters of Quidditch teams and bands are there all around the room, some still, some moving. I recognise a couple of still Playboy pictures near the bed I'm sitting on, and I figure it's Sirius' bed – he's the only one rakish enough to have a Playboy subscription, even if he technically has zero Muggle influence.

"Sirius had a conspiracy theory that you never dated anyone because you had some secret betrothal with the wealthiest wizard in Europe, and that's why you always turned down dates."

"Wait, what? When have I ever turned down a date? I've never been asked out before you! And your thing wasn't even real!"

"Joe McIntyre from Ravenclaw asked you if you wanted to look for DADA books with him in Hogsmeade, and you turned him down so casually," James says, gracefully falling back on his bed. His actions draw my attention to the drawstring pants he's wearing that hangs from his hips so–

I'm getting distracted again.

"That was him asking me out? What do you even mean?"

"Well, why do you think he always talks to you in the library. He fancies you. Big time."

Joe talks to me because he likes me? Is that why he'd helped me with the wand alarm?

"Ah, I can see the light turn on in your head, Sarah," he says, folding his arms and placing them behind his head, turning his face towards me. I can see the hint of a coy smile forming on his face.

"How did you even know I talk to Joe? Our conversations are private for the most part," I say slowly, my eyes narrowing as I say those words.

"I have eyes and ears all over Hogwarts," he says smarmily, without batting an eyelid.

"You could have easily found out about my talking to Joe, I mean, that's no secret or anything of that sort. But how do you know what exactly he said?"

An expression which is best described as a grimace passes over James' face, before he shakes his head and smiles at me.

"Well?" I prompt him.

"Don't get mad, okay?"

"Okay?" I say uncertainly. I have a feeling that I'm not going to quite like what James has to say.

"We were just curious about whether you were in a secret relationship with McIntyre, so we might have followed you to the library?" he says, his voice almost squeaking towards the end.

"And?" I ask, making my voice dangerously low.

"And we might have ended up overhearing how you so callously broke his heart by being oblivious?" he says, and I throw the pillow next to me at him.

"That's good aim, Sarah, want to join the Quidditch team?" he asks, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Do you realise that that was an invasion of privacy? And honestly, how can the four of you be so gossipy – like more gossipy than the old women who make up the horticulturists' society in my neighbourhood?" I tell him firmly.

"I know it was wrong, but I couldn't–"

I interrupt him, not wanting to hear his excuse. "Why wouldn't you tell me that Joe fancied me? I mean, as a friend, you're obliged to tell me."

"Joe McIntyre is a pansy of the first order, and none of us, as your friends, wanted to see you with him," he says arrogantly, and I glare at him till he gets up and comes and sits next to me.

"C'mon love, don't be like that. I'm saying sorry," he says, trying to lift my chin up with his fingers. I continue to glare at him.

"I've never had a real boyfriend. That could have been my chance, you know?"

"But it's not like you fancied him, right? Otherwise you wouldn't have agreed to this," he reasons with me, and the thing is, it's true. I can't see Joe that way, ever. Remember how I've told you before that my crushes have been fleeting and temporary?

"Regardless, you should have told me. Maybe I want to be with a guy who likes me," I say. It's something I'd never say to anyone – probably except David, but still – it's definitely not something I'd ever share even with Alice and Marlene. They'd look at me with pity, and that's not something I want.

"See, now I feel terrible because it feels like I'm using you in this whole thing. Are you _sure_ there's nothing I could do for you?" he asks, his hand having dropped from my chin onto the bed, where he's playing with my fingers.

"Maybe you could help me out in Transfiguration?" I ask quietly.

"You definitely need the help – you're awful at it," he says, grinning at me, the serious expression that had been on his face just moments before disappearing all together.

I punch him in the arm, though there's this hint of a smile that's about to break out on my face.

"You want to smile, you know it," he cajoles me, and I give him the tiniest, quickest smile, before sticking my tongue out at him.

He laughs and all I can think is how carefree it sounds – how it doesn't sound like the laugh of a boy– man who's been hopelessly in love for quite some time now.

It makes me wonder which is more demotivating – being in love and being rejected at every other moment, or not having had the chance to fall in love, ever.

But then I remember that I'm only sixteen, and that I have my whole life in front of me, and so I shake my head and join in on the laughing.

* * *

;;

* * *

 **Guest reviews:**

Bristol: And seeing a review from you and knowing that you still read this makes me equally happy. :) Thank you for reading. :)

Guest: Life has its ups and downs is what I've learnt. Yes, I'm all right, thanks for asking. :)

Guest, Guest, and Malak, thank you so much. :)

jafcbutterfly: I hope you didn't have to wait for _too_ long. ;)

* * *

 **AN:** My favourite chapter so far, because, well, shirtless James. Leave me reviews the way you'd give shirtless James dollar bills to pole dance?

 **AN, the second:** I was ready to post this chapter in December, but lost content twice because of tech problems. At this point, I can't remember any more than this of what I wrote. Much of shirtless James was lost in that second glitch. *sighs* Please do give my demotivated muse some love.

 **Quick question:** If I were to post pictures, relevant links and general trivia about this story on Tumblr, how interested would you be?


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks to GiuliaZe, Venus914, Guest, Amy, Olivia0707, MWolfe13, Bristol, sainlyinsain, jafcbutterfly, Analu3003, "Me" aka noneofmyshipssail, chibi-Clar, Just Crucio It, lavender macarons, Guest and morganiam for your lovely reviews! You guys are the best!_

 _Bristol, thanks for sticking around! :)_

 _Amy, hopefully in the near future, I'll get around to doing what I promised. xx_

* * *

 **So far:**

James and his mates would do well in Manchester's Magykl Horticulture Chapter, in Sarah's opinion, because they gossip the way old women do. The fact that they know everything about everyone, and are conniving enough to pursue every little thing that catches their attention? Incorrigible! Like how _dare_ James and his fellow cronies eavesdrop on her and Joe? Like do they have no other business?

But Sarah can't lay into James, can she? Because then Ava McKinnon will be on her like a hawk, saying in her whiny voice that of course she knew that James and Sarah wouldn't last past one date. One "official" (read: faux) date and being made to sit together by a Sluggy who thinks he's Cupid do not a relationship make. But in order for James to actually learn how to _woo_ (*cringe*) Lily, the charade has to be kept up for a little while longer.

Because while James has changed, a teensy, tiny bit, he's still insipid enough to be a treasured member of the Manchester MHC.

* * *

 **PLAYING PRETEND**

CHAPTER 7

* * *

 _October 5th, 1976_

* * *

"Hi Sarah!" comes the over-familiar voice of Joe, and I cringe. It's all James' fault, I swear. If it hadn't been for him, I'd have still been blissfully unaware.

And ignorance really is bliss.

But I'm not really one to avoid confrontation – I usually blunder through most situations by keeping mum and letting the conversation get as awkward as it can. And then when the conversation gets really awkward, the other party usually makes an active attempt to end said awkward conversation, and I just go along with it.

The thing is, I deal with confrontations by being non-confrontational, but it's not because I'm a doormat – don't get me wrong. I just think they're not worth the effort. Others might call it a very lazy approach to life, but I consider it a very enlightened way to deal with things.

I'm awesome, I know.

(I was just kidding, on the off chance that you thought I was being serious.)

Seriously though, I'll write a self-help book someday on how to get maximum result with minimum effort, just you wait.

Anyways, where was I? Ah, Joe, and my propensity for awkward conversations.

"Hullo, Joe," I greet him, not bothering to lift my head up. I continue scratching away onto the parchment about the antipyretic property of poinsettia leaves. It's an essay for Sluggy, and though I almost always get an O, if not an E, I put in as much effort into writing it as possible. All that extra knowledge I gain from working with my mother has to go somewhere, right?

"What's that you're doing? Need any help?"

"It's an essay for Slughorn, and no, I don't need help."

"Okay," he says, and then there's the sound of a pile of books being kept on the table. I look up to see that I'm right, that there _are_ a whole pile of books. A casual glance at the spines tells me that it's all about Arithmancy.

I'm decent at Arithmancy. It's not like it's my favourite subject, but that doesn't mean I hate it either. Funnily, unbelievably, Sirius Black is the best in Arithmancy in class. Can you believe that? Lily hates it, being second after him, seeing as she's almost never seen him work out a single trigonometric spell casting equation in the common room.

Anyway, I'm sat here in the library, not knowing what to say, because what James said is running on like a broken cassette inside my hand. That Joe _fancies_ me for no conceivable reason.

I try to focus on what I'm writing, but after being forced to scratch out the fourth word I've written in a row, I decide to just get it over with. I'm not going to ask Joe if he likes me, oh hell no. I'm just going to do some trial and error with small talk and see how best I can go back to pretending that I'm blissfully unaware.

At the same moment that I open my mouth to speak, Joe starts speaking, a firm but sombre expression on his face.

"So, I heard from Ava McKinnon that you're dating that Potter boy?"

"James and I are just friends for now," comes my automatic response, but I inwardly hit myself when I see that his eyes light up at that. So I tack on without pausing, "But we're hoping it will turn into something more."

He looks like a wounded puppy, but he shrugs it off and starts talking about the arithmancy used in drawing runes, and I can't help but feel the respect I have towards Joe grow. It's very rare to even feel a smidge of respect towards someone you know not in a professional capacity, but on friendlier terms.

It's safe to say that Joseph McIntyre has my seal of approval that he is a gentleman and person of maturity and grace.

Also, he's polite, charming, intelligent, sincere, and not too hard on the eyes either. I'm pretty sure that he'll find a girl someday, one who'll be attracted to him as well, and that they'll fall in love and all that.

Maybe it's just a cure for my hyperactive imagination, but I always like picturing how real life love stories would actually work out. And in this case, I have the oddest of feelings that Joe and his future love will bond over books, and that they'll probably meet for the first time in the library, if they haven't already met.

On a side note, Alice thinks I'd have done wonderfully in Madame Dorothy's Divination class, just because my imagination runs rampant.

Let it be known that I was the one who did Alice's Divination homework all through Third Year, before she pulled her Greengrass surname card on the Hogwarts teachers and demanded that she be let out of such a mundane and insipid class.

Needless to say, as a member of the _Sacred Twenty-Eight_ , she got away with it.

But I'm deviating right now, and I'm thinking that I should start looking into the arithmancy behind potion-making. I'm guessing that it'll be like molecular chemistry, which I have a very lousy understanding of, so maybe after all, Joe and I can go back to existing the way we always have, being research buddies in the library, and fellow intellectuals.

( _Ahem_ , he's the intellectual. I'm the pseudo-intellectual. But don't tell anyone that. Let the world assume and presume whatever it wants to.)

* * *

;;

* * *

"So, lesson first, or fun first?" I ask, as I hover in the air on Marly's Nimbus 1000. She'd been all too willing to lend me her broom when I told her that James and I were planning on having a 'date in the air'.

Anyway, it wasn't planned as much as it was spontaneous. When someone asks you for a game of Swivenhodge, you just don't say no. Especially when Swivenhodge enthusiasts are so bloody hard to find.

It turns out James likes the game, as do I – a mutual interest we had discovered only some twenty minutes back – and naturally, we were up in the air as soon as possible, fixing out the rules.

The game is actually very simple – the players sit backward on their brooms, and bat a water filled balloon to each other across a hedge using the brush end of the broom. Every time the balloon is dropped the opponent gets a point, and the first one to get fifty points wins.

Mum says an inflated pig bladder was used once upon a time, before we borrowed balloons from the Muggles, but I've never taken the time to check the veracity of her claim. (She likes to tease me a bit too much.)

James used to play it with his dad when he was younger, just the way I used to play with my mum, which is a really wonderful coincidence – completely serendipitous, I must say – because the game isn't that popular, at least, not as popular as Quidditch, which has had the world gripped since time immemorial.

"I want to say fun first, lesson second, but I have a feeling playing with me is going to be a very challenging lesson for you," he says snootily, tossing his head back like he has a crick in his neck, before doing a fancy twirl on his broom.

I've heard him tell snarkier, meaner stuff to other people, so I know it's all in jest. Who doesn't like a little ragging to get into the mood of the game? Anyway, it's not one of his better jibes.

"Oooh Jamesie, have you brought some parchment? You're going to be taking notes on how pathetic you are after you water the entire Quidditch grounds with all your dropped catches."

But who am I kidding? Generally, all-rounded Chasers are fantastic at Swivenhodge. And James is a damn good Chaser, if there ever was one.

"Oh, you're on, Davies," he grits out, his cheek dimpling cutely as he smirks at me, before doing a loop in the air. I roll my eyes at that.

James conjures a net (seeing as there isn't a hedge in the middle of the pitch some forty feet high, and seeing as we don't want to play close to the ground like children after conjuring a hedge) using his wand, only that the lines are made of silver and the illusion shimmers in the dying light of the sun. The hedge-alternative looks so pretty, I just want to stop and stare at it. It's not a real net, which means we can pass right though it, but that doesn't matter, because oh my Merlin, it's so captivatingly pretty!

"Ready?" he asks, coming back up into the air with a loaded balloon. I don't even want to ask how he and his friends had such a ready stock of balloons to spare – I'm hoping I've possibly saved some poor people from having water bombs and paint bombs splattered upon their heads.

"Ready," I say, leaning down on the broom, giving my most competitive look through the crisscrossing silver beams of the net. I try not to let the silver lines distract me.

I'm made of sterner stuff.

"And the game begins," he cries loftily, before serving.

I drop the first point. James drops the second point. Then the third. Then the fourth. By the tenth point he drops, I'm suspicious.

"Hold on, time out."

"What? Do you feel tired? Should you rest?"

I give him an amused look. Me? Tired? After just fifteen minutes? And that too in the air? Alice would kill me if my stamina were ever that bad.

Every week, Alice makes Marlene and me run for a mile, power-walk for three miles, and do this horrible set of ab-crunches that usually ensures that I collapse in a state of paralysis. She says it's good training, for being an Auror. Marly does the exercise because it helps her with Quidditch as well, but I do it just to keep Alice quiet.

Alice had apparently written Marly's godfather, Alastor Moody, and gotten this rigorous schedule from him. His suggestion had been that we do this every day, but if I were ever forced to do such strenuous activity every twenty-four hours, Alice's friendship with me would be irreparably damaged.

"Stop it," I tell him, my amusement over his concern that I was possibly tired still present.

"Stop what?" he asks, looking every bit perplexed as a perplexed person would.

My earlier amusement starts vanishing rapidly.

" _James_. Stop. Losing. On. Purpose."

"On purpose?"

So this is how he wants to play it. I sigh, push a lock of my flying hair behind my ear, and try again. I feel like a dragon, the way I'm huffing in annoyance.

"James. You're much better than this, I've seen you as a Chaser. Stop playing so poorly, and play the way you'd actually play."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, and there's something about the way he says it that makes me realise that A) I'm either a terrible player and he's letting me down easy, or B) it's yet another misconceived notion he has about humans who have ovaries.

"Are you losing points just because I'm a girl, or is it because you're actually pants at this game?" I ask as I fly closer, through the illusionary net, to stop right in front of him. I give him my best frown.

(Side note: Flying through the silvery lines feels warm, like stepping into sunlight.)

"You said it was a date."

I raise an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"The guy's supposed to make the girl feel special during a date."

I'm so tempted to just bang my head hard against one of the Quidditch hoops that are nearby. I settle for simply raising my other eyebrow as well and grimacing.

"When I said we could make a date of playing Swivenhodge, I didn't mean a _date_ date. I meant it the way I tell Marly or Ali that we can make a date of going to Twilfit's in Hogsmeade."

"Oh."

"Right, and honestly, girls like me, girls like Lily, and any _sane_ girl who's probably worth pursuing would want you to be yourself while doing something like playing this trivial little game. It's about the experience, okay? So if you're bloody fantastic at it, it's all right. Just don't brag about your skills or be too critical. Just go with it and have fun and try to show the other person a memorable game."

"Right, Professor Davies."

I glare at him, and continue doing so till he flies up next to me and then ruffles my hair. That makes me feel like a child, and I glare all the more.

"I want a nice fair game now," I tell him sullenly, imitating Madam Hooch perfectly.

We resume our game, and by the forty-fifth point James has won, I'm glad I refused to rescind my ten pity points. It's not that I'm playing badly – the score's 45-24 – but it's obvious who the actual Quidditch player is.

"You're wishing I'd gone easy on you, aren't you?" asks James smarmily. My telling off had worked, and James had gone back to being himself.

"I've actually been going easy on you all along," I lie, grinning back at him. Have more lousy lies ever been told in the history of lie-telling?

When we're down to game point, I manage to earn a point after a long rally, making the score a 49-32. Praise! Hallelujah! For what a stupendous save was that! And I placed it so perfectly, so damn perfectly, that James almost fell off his broom trying to save it!

I'm the queen of Swivenhodge, not– splash!

I'd been so distracted during my gloating that I hadn't seen the balloon James had sent my way – James, the horrible cheat, taking advantage of poor me during my rather egotistical praises about my skills – and as true Sarah Davies luck would have it, it had hit the top of my shirt, pricked upon the pin there, and drenched me in water.

You see, the thing is, I hadn't bothered to change out of my school uniform completely – I was still in my shirt, and I'd swapped my skirt for a pair of tights in my hurry to play. So like a character in every D grade film I'd watched over the years with David, I was the dumb blonde chick in a wet white shirt.

And why was there a pin on my shirt? Just this morning, I'd discovered that my top button was missing – the thread had been lose for ages anyway, so it was inevitable that it fall off eventually. I also learnt that _Reparo_ only works on broken buttons, not missing ones.

Alice, being the mother-hen she is, had pinned my shirt up at the last minute, saying in a scandalised tone, _'You don't want these prepubescent boys to be dreaming of you at night, Rah!_ '

A few moments pass by, with me looking anywhere I can except at James, and him staring at my chest. Finally, when a breeze blows by and I start feeling cold, I clear my throat.

James and I fly down together, and he still looks stunned, as we dismount.

My mind is relatively blank, but the back of my neck burns. My face is probably nastily red at the moment from how embarrassed I am, and I don't want to dwell on such unpleasant thoughts right now.

"Here," James says quietly, and puts a guiding hand on my back, leading me to the locker rooms. I actively avoid looking at James' face.

Once we're in there, he gives me an old Quidditch tee of his, with his number fading on its back.

"I'd rather not have my dating tutor die of pneumonia," he says, a sly smile on his face, and maybe it's because it's so warm and bright here, but suddenly, my mortification at the whole thing disappears, it feels so laughable, so I smile and take the t-shirt from.

"Even if I were to die, I'll come back like Nearly Headless Nick just to help you with your love life," I say, grinning broadly at him, as I walk into one of the nearby stalls. When I come out, James is leaning against one of the lockers, eating chocolate.

I go closer, see it's a Cockroach Cluster, and wrinkle my nose in disgust.

"What?"

He sees me look at his hand once again, and he grins.

"Don't tell me you believe that rumour that Cockroach Clusters have actual cockroach eggs!"

I think the disgust on my face is very evident, because he continues.

"It doesn't. Trust me."

"And how would you know?" I ask.

"Because my family owns the patent for it. I know the ingredients."

It's the way he tells it, so matter of fact, without a hint of pride or condescension, and I know I'm supposed to respect him for how his voice was devoid of emotion when he said it, but I've never felt the difference in economic status be more prevalent than it is right now.

 _Of course the rich boy owns old patents, how else could he be rich?_

We're not poor, definitely not, but we're the type of people who squeeze out every last bit of toothpaste from the tube, the type who wait for the right sales to buy bed sheets from Magyk Street, the type who don't have fancy desires because there are more practical things which require our gold.

"Why am I not surprised?" I say weakly, and James chuckles, misinterpreting my rhetoric question.

"Peter wanted to be doubly sure before eating one in Third Year, so I asked my mother and looked it up," he says, thinking I'd been talking about him knowing the ingredients.

And somehow, that makes me smile, just the teeniest bit, because how often do you come across a rich Pureblood who doesn't want to flaunt his wealth?

"You have to try one," he says, taking my wet shirt from my hand and giving me the box instead. I carefully pick a round egg, and close my eyes tightly before popping it into my mouth.

The last thing I see before closing my eyes is James watching me intently from near the laundry bin, having put my shirt in there. I open my eyes and grin at him, as the taste of peppermint explodes in my mouth, and he grins back, and we stand there, grinning at each other like fools, the entire time it takes for me to suck the egg.

* * *

;;

* * *

"You don't have siblings, right?"

"Nope, and thank goodness I don't," I reply, popping another Chocolate Frog into my mouth.

James and I are lying down on a picnic blanket, having laid it out on the sand near the bleachers, and we're watching the night sky. We're both pants at Astronomy, so it's not like we're here for any academic pursuits. We're just eating chocolate and talking.

If I ever need chocolate, I now know who to go to. James. James has an extraordinarily large stash of chocolate treats in his Quidditch locker. A Muggle with the same quantum of chocolate would surely have cavities.

"Haven't you ever felt lonely, as a child?"

"Not really, my cousin and my aunt lived some ten minutes away, and my aunt used to be out of town most of the time, so my cousin almost always lived at my place when I was younger. And I guess he was like a sibling, in a way. Why, were you ever lonely?"

"Not exactly, but sometimes I used to want people my age to play with. Not particularly a sibling, but most of the magical people at Godric's Hollow are old, and the few village kids that were there, my parents didn't want me to play with them because they were worried I'd break the statute."

"So how did you pass your time?"

"I used to booby-trap the manor and make up Quidditch plays in the yard. My dad's always encouraged the prankster in me."

I turn my head to see that he's smiling, and he's got a dimple in his cheek. I want to lift my hand and trace it, but instead, I go back to looking at the sky.

"What's your family like?" he asks.

"My parents are pretty cool people. I know that people our age usually hate their parents or try to be rebels, but my parents are honestly super cool. My dad's a Muggleborn and my mum's a Pureblood. My parents met here in Hogwarts, fell in love, and they're best friends as well, actually.

"My mum's family found out, and threatened to disinherit her. So she–"

"She ran away with your dad, and thus got blasted off the Rosier tree," James finishes, with a smile.

I'm about to ask him how he knows, when I remember that I told him about it when he asked how Narcissa and I were acquainted, on our first 'date'.

"And that's all there is, I guess," I say, smiling fondly at the thought of my parents, especially my mother, at being a 'rebel'.

I'd never tell it to their faces, but I actually do care about them.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see that James is staring at me, a curious expression on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says quickly.

I turn my head fully and look at him with narrowed eyes.

"Your eyes light up when you talk about your family."

I shake my head and smile at him amusedly. I have nothing to say, though. So I put my hand out and reach into the Chocolate Frog box, only to find it empty. I sit up and upturn the box, and sigh – it really is empty.

"I'd get you another box, princess, but since we missed dinner, I figured you might want to grab a bite from the kitchens instead," he says, and my heart does weird pitter-patter sounds at being called princess.

Naturally, I choose to focus on the actual message only after my heart seems to come back to normal.

"You know where the kitchens are?" I ask, and I can feel my eyes go wide. It's not funny, the amused look that James wears on his face right now.

"You can be adorable, you know?" he says, getting up and ruffling my hair, but for once, I'm not annoyed, because I'm going to find out where the kitchens are, and I can't stop smiling.

* * *

 **AN:** _I've had a lousy day today, your thoughts and reviews would be much appreciated._

 **Update info:** _How does June 26, 2017 sound?_


	8. Chapter 8

**Note 1:** This chapter is what **sets the plot in motion for the next ten chapters** or so, so be sure to pick out on any possible **clues** I've dropped all over the place. :)

 **Note 2:** A really thoughtful guest reviewer asked a lot of questions, which I figured many of you might have. So I'm replying to the review in the form of a fact file, which is at the bottom of the chapter.

* * *

xx

* * *

 **PLAYING PRETEND**

CHAPTER 8

* * *

 _October 14, 1976_

* * *

According to Alice, James is apparently checking me out right now, during Potions, just the way he's been checking me out all week. She makes it a point to point it out every day.

And I'd be a liar if I disagreed, so I've just been nodding my head and replying vaguely, much to her frustration.

Alice lets out a grunt and puts her hand out to pull poor Marlene towards our cauldrons. The other girl had been walking towards the table she shares with Peter with their ingredients, but had been abruptly stopped by the pixie called Alice.

"What now?" she asks tiredly, rearranging the crushed snail shells bowl on top of the jar of powdered hobgoblin nails, so as to not drop the jar of Murtlap essence.

"James was checking Sarah out again!" Alice says in an urgent whisper, earning a long sigh from Marls.

"Not this again, Ali," she says, pushing locks of her dirty blonde hair off her face with her shoulder. "We've been over this. What did I tell you? James and Sarah are dating, and it's only natural that he checks her out. I know it doesn't fit in with your theory that he's not over Lily, but get over it."

She pulls away almost angrily, and Alice and I turn around simultaneously to see her stalk towards a Peter whose nose is buried in his textbook. I catch the eye of Sirius who raises his eyebrow quizzically at the interaction, and I just shrug.

"Morgana, why are you both being snippety with me all the time?" she asks, and she sounds almost close to tears. So despite the stifling heat from our lit cauldrons, I put my arm around Alice and squeeze her tightly, ignoring the elbow that pokes my side.

"You're not over Longbottom, no matter how much you deny it. And you're seeing things where none exist. I don't know how psychology works, but I think your denial has triggered some sort of paranoia."

"But I'm NOT seeing things, Rah! It's really there, okay? One day, that boy's checking you out, and turning away blushing when you catch him, and the next, he's staring at Evans wistfully, like he's in love. He's bad news for you."

She looks at me, and those hazel eyes are wide, and her chin's wobbling, so I hold her shoulders gently and speak softly.

"Alice Daphne Greengrass. James and I are _not_ in a relationship. We're just getting to know each other better. He might as well be someone who's just turning from someone I merely know to someone whom I can call a friend. But that is all. We haven't done anything like what a boyfriend and a girlfriend would do, we've probably max just held hands and hugged each other. And that's it. Your worries are wasted. _We're only dating._ "

She doesn't look satisfied, but her cauldron starts spewing purple sparks, so I peer in and try to salvage her work.

* * *

;;

* * *

I get up from the lavatory and adjust my knee high socks. I'd just noticed that I hadn't shaved my lower thighs properly, and while blonde hair is not noticeable at all, I still feel a little self-conscious about the fuzz.

I usually don't use shaving spells. I use this hair removal potion which my mum taught me to brew, but I haven't brewed it in over a month, and the stock I'd created over summer has depleted faster than usual. (I suspect it's Alice, though she says it's Marlene who's been using more than usual.)

Once I'm sure I'm okay, I flush the loo and walk out to the wash basins, where Moaning Myrtle is sitting against a cracked mirror, staring at the door. We're friends, after a fashion.

"What are you looking at?" I ask her, as I wash my hands.

"The door opened slightly, but doors don't open here. I'd know if they did usually," she says.

"Must have been a draft," I say, looking at myself in the mirror. There are bags under my eyes, from staying up last night to read a smutty little book about a girl, whose Animagus form is a mermaid, and whose underwater adventures with a certain mer-chieftain were more than just steamy.

My eyes move to my chest, hidden behind my shirt and vest, and I think about how James has been behaving around me ever since that night of Swivenhodge. It's almost as if seeing my bra outlined after my shirt got wet is what made him realise that other girls have tits as well, not just Lily.

However, the thought of sexualising James' obsession with Lily somehow feels wrong. He probably annoys the girl more than anyone ever has, but his devotion to her is pure. At least, it feels that way. It's not how Marlene's pre-occuptaion with Prewett is; it's not just blatant lust.

I won't agree with Alice to her face if she asks me, about James looking both at me and Lily, but I think seeing that poor black bra of mine has confused James more than ever. I think he's grappling with the concept of love and lust, and how the latter can be exclusive of the former.

I refuse to dwell on how I feel about the fact that it's _me_ who's causing James to take his eyes off Lily, even if it's only for a few minutes. I look at my reddening face in the mirror and splash water onto–

And suddenly, there's James standing behind me, and Myrtle shrieks just as I gasp and exclaim, "Jesus Christ," my hand pulling out my wand, instead of closing the tap.

I whirl around, as Myrtle yells, "This is the girls' lavatory, you pervert!"

"What _are_ you doing here?"

James ignores Myrtle and regards me, which only irritates the teenage ghost further.

I'm still clutching my wand, so I stuff it into my skirt pocket, wiping my hands on my skirt in the process, as he steps closer.

"I heard Alice wondering about whether you and I were really in a relationship," he starts, only to be interrupted by Myrtle, who swoops down to stand before me. I can still see James over Myrtle's head, but still.

"You have a boyfriend and you never told me!" she cries, looking at me accusatorily.

"It's not like that, Myrtle darling, James and I have just started dating, which is what I told Alice," I say, looking pointedly at James when I say the last part.

"But you never told me you'd got asked out," she says sadly, and I feel a strong rush of pity for this girl who never made it out of Hogwarts. "No one talks to me anymore."

"You know, I'm out of some potions, and Sluggy won't let me use the dungeons this month because he thinks I'm overworking. I'll set shop here, like old times?" I offer, to placate her, and she perks up, her face becoming more silver.

"You'll come back without your annoying friends?" she asks, and I notice James trying not to snort.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," I tell her, sidestepping her wavering form before she can hug me. She's hugged me before– it's scary cold when she does that.

Myrtle doesn't say anything, but she fixes her gaze on James and snaps waspishly, "Close the tap!"

I pre-emptively stop James from whatever he wants to tell Myrtle by closing the tap myself, and grabbing my bag from the counter.

"C'mon now," I say to James, yanking him by the arm. "Bye, Myrtle" I call out as I drag him to the door. It's lunch hour, and I want to eat.

Myrtle promises to keep an eye out on the pervert boyfriend, as James hurriedly tries to stuff something into his bag that's sticking out. The second we're out into the deserted corridor, I stop and yank the thing from his bag.

He resists and pulls on it, trying to make me let go, his expression one of determination.

"Let go," he says, through gritted teeth, but I tug harder, and before I know it, I'm on the floor, with half my body is missing, and my head throbbing from where I hit my head.

I'm about to scream bloody murder, when I realise what it is.

It's an invisibility cloak.

A fucking _invisibility cloak._

 _James Potter has an invisibility cloak._

I take in a huge breath and try to sit up, as James watches, mortified, and I prop myself on my elbow, only to slip on the cloak and hit my head harder on the wall.

The pain intensifies, and then –

* * *

;;

* * *

It's nice and cosy, but my throat's dry, so I'm forced to open my eyes. I take in the ceiling of the bed – it's not my bed, but it's still vaguely familiar.

And then I realise where I am. I'm in the bloody hospital wing, of all places on earth. I open my eyes wide and sit up almost automatically, only for the blanket to fall away. I'm dressed in pyjamas with pink stripes. These are _definitely_ not mine.

My curtain is partially drawn, and through the gap, I can see that it's sometime late at night.

I try to figure out why I'm really here. Is this a dream, or is this really happening?

If this is a dream, there'll be something different about the environment I'm in, right? I haven't been to the hospital wing _so_ many times that I'm familiar with the details of how it looks exactly.

I swing my legs out from under the blanket, and push the curtain aside. The floor feels cold against my bare feet, so that's one point for this being real.

I look up and see that James is sleeping on an armchair, his mouth slightly open and his glasses askew. And there's a huge pile of chocolates on the bedside table. James has never been to the hospital wing before to see me – when I once caught the flu in first year, and once when Alice's cauldron splattered volatile fluid onto my hand last year. Second, I don't have enough friends to have so many chocolates.

So that's two points for this being a dream.

If this is a dream, I might as well quench my dream-thirst. So I pour out some water from the jug nearby, and sniff it before gulping it. It doesn't smell like any dangerous potion, so I think what I just drank is nothing but water. Does the water get points for feeling real?

I sit perched on the edge of the bed, my mind moving from sluggish to human. If I'm in the hospital wing _really_ , why am I actually here?

Or have I become this decent at lucid dreaming?

I can't remember anything of today; I can't even remember what day it is today.

My hand goes to the pillow, which is where I usually store my wand, so I can cast a _Tempus_ but I can't find my wand. _My wand is missing._

The warning that Mr Moody had given all of us at Marly's birthday party this summer echoes through my head, and I frantically start searching for that piece of wood.

Dream or not, I'd never go anywhere without it.

"You're up!"

I pause in my frantic search of the bed coverings to look at James. The dream-being is talking to me.

James has now sat up from his chair, and looks slightly alarmed.

"Of course I'm up. Why wouldn't I be up?" I ask him, annoyed, and I go back to searching for my wand. I can't find it, and my temper's rising. Every minute without my beloved magical focus seems to be driving me insane.

"Will you please lie down again?" he asks, worried.

I turn around to glare at him, only to notice that he's stood up, and that he's standing right next to the bed, on which I'm kneeling. And he's so close that I can smell that combination of cinnamon and musk. _Good job, brain, on perfecting that smell!_ _Now can I get to see that adorable little dimple as well?_

"I can't find my wand."

"Don't worry, it's right here," he says, taking my wand out of his pocket, and giving it to me.

When I hold the piece of wood, a strong rush of delicious warmth floods my body, and I feel connected to my magical core once again.

My wand has never thrilled me this way, except for the first time I picked it up, at Ollivander's shop. It's giddy to feel so much power. And that's what decides it for me. This is all a dream.

James puts his hand out, and catches my shoulder, and there's a crinkle between his eyebrows, like he really cares. And in the faint dimness of the place, he's just there, and he feels so present, and everything just seems to fit at that moment.

So I put my arms around his neck and pull him towards me.

It's only when his lips mould slightly over mine, that I realise this can't be a dream. My brain is not capable of imagining that soft warmth, that subtle coarseness of his chin, the way he slightly hesitates before yielding ever so slightly– even I'm not _that_ imaginative.

 _This is not a dream._

 _This is real._

 _Fucking hell._

 _I'm kissing James-fucking-Potter._

I shove him away, even though I feel frozen stiff with mortification. I can already feel my face turning red.

* * *

;;

* * *

James clears his throat, but I don't look up. We've been sitting still for the past hour or so, though it feels longer. I'm on the bed, he's on the chair, and I haven't made eye contact.

My ears have been burning from humiliation all along.

"So you missed on a lot of drama today," he says, and I look up, and now that I've met his eyes, I can't seem to go back to just looking at my hands. It's obvious he's making an effort to be civil.

"Wait, hold up. Before you tell me about any drama, why am I even here?"

"You don't remember?" he asks, his eyes wide. His glasses slip slightly, but he doesn't fix them.

"Er, no?" It comes out as a question.

"Fuck, Pomfrey was right in calling your father."

It's the first time I've heard James cuss while talking to me, but that's not what grabs my attention.

"My _father_? Why was my dad here, what happened?"

James bites his lip slightly and I try not to think of how soft they felt, but fail miserably. I feel like my brain has divided itself into two parts. One part consciously focuses on the matter at hand, the important stuff, while the other part runs in the background, admiring every little thing he does or says.

The background one is annoying.

"Uh, you hit your head on the wall when you slipped outside the girls' loo on the second floor," he says, as I furrow my eyebrows and think. I can't remember any of this.

"Oh?" I say, because it's possible that Myrtle flooded the second floor like she's done in the past. Once, she did it in order to ban Marly from the bathroom. Alice and I had found the incident funny, much to Marlene's consternation. "Was the floor flooded?"

"What? No," he says, shaking his head. "I don't remember seeing any water."

I'm trying very hard to form a picture of what happened, but I can't. My mind is blank. I can remember things like the fact that Marly and Myrtle hate each other, and I can remember how I'm actually tutoring James to be better for Lily. So this blank space in my memory isn't that large a blank space, hopefully.

Wait. James didn't _see_ any water there...

"Hold up, you were there?"

"Uh, yeah. I was the one who carried you to the hospital wing after you didn't get up. I was your knight in shining armour," he says, puffing his chest out, almost as if he expects a pat on his back for being so heroic.

I'm about to ask him if I was very heavy for him to carry, but I change my mind at the last minute. Ignorance is bliss, I don't want to know anything about my weight.

Also, I think the kiss has firmly brought me back to reality. I feel like myself again.

In response to James, I throw an empty Bertie's box at him from the table nearby. I don't know how I feel about chocolates and sweets meant for me being missing. I feel robbed.

"Why were you even there?" I ask him, as he upturns the box to check if it really is empty. He doesn't look up, and his focus is on the box.

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep a better eye on your sweets. Peter's always been a bit of klepto when it came to these jelly beans."

"But the Chocolate Frogs are missing as well," I say, gesturing to the discarded blue coverings lining the table.

"Eh, that might have been me," he says quietly, looking away sheepishly. I kick him till he looks up.

"Why did you eat my stuff?"

"The Prewett twins came to see you, and then they wanted to see if there was a card they hadn't collected yet. And Marlene told them to help themselves, because you're no longer into collecting them."

"Marlene _gave away_ my chocolates?" I ask, my voice high, feeling a stab of betrayal. She'd do anything to just get that redhead to look at her, that desperate idiot.

"They only wanted the cards, so I ate the chocolates," he says, and I kick him hard in the shins in response. It was probably a bad idea to kick him that hard, because this time, I can feel the muscles and tendons in his legs, and I can definitely say that his legs are in good shape.

If I were to ever describe how I found out that James Potter has good legs to my two useless besties, Marly'd make some innuendo about foot fetishes, which would make me want to run face first into a wall.

Alice and I have tried so hard, so very hard, to get the McKinnon girl to behave like a decent human being, but nope. It's not normal, how she spends fifty-one percent of her time making inappropriate remarks. I don't really mind them, but prim and proper Ali always suffers.

Last year, the senior batch had organised a Gryffindor Halloween costume party, borrowing the Muggle tradition, and Marlene had wanted the three of us to go as the main Greek goddesses. She was Aphrodite, the one for lust and love, I was Athena, the one for wisdom and books, and Alice was Hera. Personally, I felt Ali would have been better suited for Demeter, given her green thumb, but my suggestion had been ignored by Marly, who had wanted us to be the female trinity.

I'm deviating. The point I'm trying to get to is that Marlene designed herself a very provocative costume, and she may or may not have lost her virginity that night to the previous Seeker.

"It's still October, right?" I ask him, thinking of Halloween, and he nods.

"I don't think you've forgotten all that much. Healer Davies asked you some thousand questions to ascertain how bad your concussion was."

"I have a _concussion_?" I ask, alarmed. I touch the back of my head softly, and I wince as the bump stings. It feels like I just hammered a nail into my head there.

"It's not very serious, don't worry. He said you'd be all right in a week," James says in a reassuring voice, but I think he must have seen the expression on my face, because he gets up and shifts to my side, sitting a little too close for my liking.

"A week?" I croak out, as he gently grips my shoulders and turns me slightly, before brushing the bump on the back of my head tenderly. It stings only slightly when he probes my scalp, like tiny pin pricks.

"A week, only because you can't remember anything that happened today. Your father mentioned something about temporary memory and nyu-ral links," he whispers carefully, and I can feel his hot breath on my neck. His hand moves down from my head to rest of my nape, and I suppress an involuntary shudder.

I have goosepimples now, and I'm not delusional enough to believe it's because of the cold.

I clear my throat and ask, "So what drama happened today?"

His hand moves away from my neck, but not before gently trailing warm streaks against my skin.

I turn my face to regard him with the corner of my eye, and he pats at the space on the bed behind him, where the pillows are propped up. He has a sly smirk on his face, as he says, "You're going to love this."

* * *

;;

* * *

I'm lying down quietly, introspecting on Ava's antics, and whether I was lucky to have missed them. But then, she wouldn't have had the chance to be such a drama queen if I hadn't hit my head. Either way, she's a useless cunt.

James is still sitting on that uncomfortable looking chair, with a tattered copy of Quidditch Through The Ages in his hands. And like the creep I am, I'm watching him, while waiting for the Dreamless Sleep to kick in – James now fancies himself to be a qualified nurse: he'd tipped some arbitrary amount into my mouth. And being the idiot I am, I hadn't asked him to fetch Madam Pomfrey.

I don't know how the moonlight is sufficient for him to read. I look out the window, and see that it looks almost like a full circle.

"James?"

He looks up at me questioningly, his eyebrows quirked up. His glasses slip, and he pushes them up.

 _Cute_.

"Why are you here? Breaking curfew?"

He looks at me for a long moment, before speaking. "Maybe if I'd stopped you from slipping, instead of just standing there, you wouldn't be here."

My mind is foggy and I stifle a yawn, but a snide voice says, _'He's not here because he cares. He only feels guilty.'_

"Why aren't Alice or Marlene here?"

"They were here the whole day, and were the last ones to leave. It's just that they aren't as skilled as me at staying out of the dorm," he says, smiling as I yawn yet again.

"I think it's time for you to sleep, princess," he says, pulling my blanket up for me, and I slowly fall asleep, feeling slightly disconcerted at how James is behaving.

It feels like I'm in some parallel universe; there's something wrong about this.

* * *

xx

* * *

 **Fact File:**

 **Sarah's eye colour:** Uhh, eventual revelation? (Bear with me, I have my reasons!)

 **James/Lily endgame:** I was very tempted once upon a time (when the story was in its eventual stages), but I know for sure, that's not the endgame anymore.

 **The Marauders:** Let's not beat around the bush, Sarah will find out about the Marauders. The signs have been there all along, and I think she'll start picking them up by the 12th chapter. And as for interactions with fellow Marauders, there's a Sarah-Sirius scene coming up in the next few chapters — Sirius still hasn't gotten his revenge for having his hair braided with pink ribbons!

 **James' goals and life-plans:** There's this scene I've pictured in my head for so long where they talk about their futures, so uhhh, no spoilers?

 **The war and the Order:** _That,_ always plays a gigantic role in any Marauders Era story, IMO!

 **Sarah's interests/talents:** Potions! Sluggy doesn't like her for her parents, contrary to what she thinks! And as evidenced by her habits, she's a voracious reader, but only when it comes to story books. She also has a knack for writing macabre love stories, but that has no bearing on the plot, haha!

* * *

 **AN:** I hope that answers all your questions, and I hope for any other readers, if you had any burning questions, they're answered as well. Once again, thanks Guest, for making me look up the character sketches I'd done so long back. It reminded me of many subplots I'd planned months back! Thank you. :)

Also, thanks to the three other Guests for reading and reviewing. :)

Reviews are love! xx


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